


Don't Look Down

by forestbirb (kawaiikyojin)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Fluff, Gays on Ice, Homophobia, Ice Skating, M/M, Major Character Injury, honestly what more is there to it, maybe smut eventually who know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2018-06-08 20:38:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6872518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kawaiikyojin/pseuds/forestbirb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People see ice skating in two ways:<br/>The hard and fast ruthlessness of hockey, and the graceful elegance of figure skating.</p>
<p>When Team Captain, Jean Kirschtein, is hindered by an unexpected impairment, he decides that his time off the ice would be best-spent attempting to befriend wrongfully abused, elite-figure skater, Marco Bodt.</p>
<p>Though Marco is initially skeptical, in time, the two become closer than either of them could ever have anticipated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Didn't See It Coming

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Twitter @forestbirb for updates and yelling about other things  
> Follow me on Tumblr for art http://2-bee.tumblr.com or for shits n giggles http://gh0st-train.tumblr.com
> 
> This fic is sort of based on the song Don't Look Down by Martin Garrix, ft. Usher, even if it doesn't make much sense now, don't worry my friends, we will get there

“Kirschtein!”

The puck was passed into my control. The fate of this game so close I swore I could taste it.  
This feeling, the rush of adrenaline that fuelled my body as I knew every person was watching me. _This_ is why I became captain of the Trost Tyrants.

I returned my gaze forward, switching between watching the puck and skating towards the opposite end of the rink. In moments like these, I didn’t have time to pay attention to my peripheral vision; all I needed to focus on was my team, the opponent’s net and anyone who tried to get in my way. Incidentally, that _someone_ to get in my way happened to be Karanese’s centre player, Eren Jaeger. Underneath my helmet, a grin couldn’t help but pull at my cheeks, this would be no problem for me to handle.

When it came to these matches, I never hesitated - that just wasn’t my style - once our team is guiding the puck, I wasn't going to give up until it reached that goal. With the energy of the crowd moving me forward, the bright lights of the arena lit the path that would lead us closer to victory.  
  
If I’m one hundred percent honest, I really wasn’t prepared for what would happen in the next few seconds.  
I glanced around just quick enough to note the players in my surroundings: Connie was skating on my left, the same side Jaeger was trying to check me. Of course, I wasn’t just going to skate idly and let him sweep the puck away - this was a perfect set up for a drop pass. I made sure to give a knowing glance to Connie before manoeuvring. The three players I needed to watch were in my sights, I could see Connie beginning to fall behind as I circled around to the right, leaving the puck in its place. Eren clearly fell for my feint as he had followed my direction. What I didn’t notice was the player who apparently hadn’t seen my pass either and was charging towards me…

I can’t say I fully recall the intimate details of the whole incident but the significant parts stuck with me.  
It was a rough collision to say the least; the wind was knocked out of me and there was no way I could’ve kept my balance. Next thing I realise, I’m lying on the ice. The ref is stood over me, Connie too, and something _really_ does not feel good.

“Oh my God, Jean, are you still alive?” You can always count on Connie to ask the real questions. I blinked in response – mostly because I was in too much shock to even speak. “Shit, man… you took a really bad hit there.” The ref then knelt down beside me and asked if I could move. Me being as incredibly determined as I am, attempted to sit up.  
Huge. Mistake.  
I let out a jarring groan of agony as I collapsed back down. Luckily, I heard the referee calling for paramedics to come and take me off the ice and soon enough, I was hoisted into the ambulance with my dad, taking a dandy old trip down to the hospital.

* * *

There’s no pleasant way to say it: I hate hospitals. People think hospitals are so great, _“you go to hospital to get better!”_ , no, you’re in hospital because something bad happened to you. Sometimes you don’t even leave because of it. The over-sanitised atmosphere just makes me feel super uneasy.

“Well, Mr Kirschtein, I’m sorry to tell you but it looks like you’re going to have to wear this sling for another eight weeks. At least.” _Oh God, come on…_  
“Why? What is it?”  
The doctor looked at me straight in the eye for a few seconds before he spoke. Not a positive thing to do, really won’t ease your patients’ nerves, doc.  
He opened up photos of my X-rays on his computer to illustrate, “You have a fracture in your left clavicle.” _Oh, good._ I didn’t say anything, I pretty much knew what that injury entailed. “It could’ve been a lot worse. You got lucky. Could’ve had a serious concussion, maybe broken the bone worse than you did” All I could do was stare at the disgustingly-green linoleum floor. Not thinking about how _lucky_ I was though, rather, thinking about what the hell I was going to do. What I’d have to tell my dad who was waiting just outside the room.  
“So… what do I do now? When can I play hockey again?” _Great. That look again._  
“I’m afraid that won’t be for a good while. You’ll have to wear this sling for eight weeks, we’ll check up on how it’s healing and if you can move your shoulder reasonably comfortably, you’ll continue with physiotherapy until it’s back in fully working order.” I decided to use his bad-news stare in response.  
“And… after the physio, that’s when I can play again?”  
“Correct.”  
“Okay, so how long will that take?”  
“Well, Mr Kirschtein,” He stood up and began pacing “that’ll depend on how fast your body recovers, including how you treat it in the meantime, don’t go running before you can walk." He paraphrased, "Generally the physio process will last around the same time as the initial healing stage, so you’re looking at another six to eight weeks afterwards.”  
“What!?” I exclaimed, “But that’s like… four months!” The doctor huffed, amused at my disbelief. _Dick…_  
“Yes, but don’t assume that you can get right back into playing those rough sports immediately, else you’ll definitely end up back here in a worse state.” I ran my free hand through my hair, trying not to panic. I knew that this injury was bad news but I couldn’t have expected _this_.  
“What do I do now then?” I asked, frankly more rhetorically than anything but some actual advice would’ve been helpful, I’ll admit.  
“For now, I suggest you just get home, rest, and put some ice on the area to reduce any inflammation.”

As much as I did want to get home after that news, I did _not_ want to walk out of that room and I did _not_ want to face my dad.

“See you, Mr Kirschtein.”

* * *

I slammed the car door shut, frustrated with my new handicap, and struggled to buckle my seatbelt. The drive home was, in short, hell. I knew that I’d fucked up and I knew by my dad’s silence that, soon enough, he would let me know all about it. You know, as a kid, when your teacher tells your parents that you’ve been misbehaving? And all you can do is wait anxiously for the moment your parents decide to chew you out? That feeling… my dad was best at leaving me with that feeling to let it muster and grow so I would learn by myself the feeling of impending doom. And I did. Oh _boy_ , that feeling was as familiar as a good friend - I can recognise it better than anyone, and right now, honey I had a big storm coming.

“What were you thinking?” Came a quiet voice, soft enough to be considered tender, but of course I could already sense the familiarly harsh undertones. I had already explained to him the severity of the injury on the way out of the hospital so I saw this coming. But I didn’t answer. He didn’t need me to.  
“Why didn’t you move out of the way?” This burning guilt, I knew like the back of my hand. “Jean, you can’t be so careless. Look what happens when you let your guard down!” He began to raise his voice, gesturing angrily at my sling. My throat started feeling tight; my mouth, dry. “Four months… Four whole months that your team will be improving - without you.” I took a deep breath and held it, nothing grounds you more than feeling like you can’t breathe. “In that time, all of them could go above and beyond your abilities! They might not even want you as captain when you can play again!” There it is. The ‘make your son feel shitty about himself’ card. Well played.  
“What am I supposed to do!? I can’t do anything with this fucking thing on my arm!” I yelled back, my voice slightly breaking. _Fucking weak, Kirschtein…_  
“You should’ve thought about that before you went and skated in front of the other team’s wing!”  
“It wasn’t my fault! I never even saw him coming!” My voice was reaching that childish whiny-pitch and I hated it.  
“ _Excuses!_ ” His voice had become loud and brash, catching me off-guard. I shut my mouth. “You’re no good to anyone in this state.” _Hold your breath._  
I can predict these situations; my dad was always the one to have the last word. Whatever I said, he would always find something to counter it. Whether I’m right or wrong, I’m not allowed to win these arguments, any attempt was futile. I spent the rest of the car journey staring out of the window, not letting him see my face, though I doubt he even wanted to see the face of his disappointment of a son.

* * *

When we pulled into our drive, I waited in the car for Dad to unlock the front door and go into the house. I didn’t want to stand next to him, even for just five seconds. As soon as he had crossed the threshold, I pulled the car handle and hastily kicked the door open, stepping out and closing it with my hip. I opted to leave my hockey equipment in the backseat, it’s not like I was going to need it for a while…

I jogged into the house, directly heading upstairs towards my bedroom. My heart was beating rapidly, maybe from running upstairs, but definitely because my temper was close to reaching its breaking point – if I didn’t stop my brain from carrying on the way it was, something was gonna give. Usually the easiest way to do that was to curl up on my bed with my music deafening me until I had calmed down, however with my screwed collarbone that wasn’t going to be possible (and I had left my iPod in the car so my go-to tactic really was not an option). Instead, I went with the best alternative which, apparently, was to do the sensible thing: to stack pillows in an inclined position on my bed and to lie on them, so my shoulder was thankfully well-supported.

If you aren’t the kind of person to get frustrated easily, you probably aren’t used to feeling tired after coming down from a bout like that. I had tired myself out so much from trying to force any bad feelings away that I was definitely ready to nap. I really wasn’t in the mood to be awake with my thoughts at that moment anyway, so naturally I was more than welcoming of a slumber to take me.

* * *

 Daylight still passed gently through my windows as I regained consciousness to the sound of knocking on my door, my hand lifting to rub my groggy eyes open.  
“Jean?” The door elicited a high-pitched creak and I saw the blurry figure of my dad standing there. Considering I was still disoriented from waking up, I didn’t have the psychological capacity to remember I was mad at him, pre-nap.  
“Hi Dad…” I lifted myself up and swung my legs over the side of my bed, pushing my fringe out of my face with my hand. He walked slowly over to the bed and sat down next to me.  
He didn’t speak at first and my body was on alert, I quickly began to worry that he was here to continue scolding me. “Jean, listen… I’m sorry for yelling at you.” _Oh, thank God._ “You know I only want what’s best for you, I just…” He wasn’t looking me in the eye; I suppose he really didn’t know where he was going with this. “I feel like the easiest way for me to help you is to show you how to figure out where you went wrong,” I started furrowing my brows at him, this wasn’t going in a direction I was pleased with.  
“Wait… Where _I_ went wrong?” I repeated. “You still think it’s my fault that _this_ happened?” I pointed at the sling.  
“Jean, don’t raise your voice, I don’t want you to be angry with me.”  
“Why wouldn’t I be angry with you? You’re supposed to be supporting me, not blaming me – especially for something that I’m not to blame for!” His annoyance began to show in his features but I wasn’t going to back down from this again.  
“If you won’t admit that this happened because of you, then you sure as _hell_ can’t handle the responsibility that comes with being the captain of the Tyrants!” I was just about ready to snap at him, I had to leave.  
I swiftly stood up and stared him dead in the eye, “You shouldn’t be worrying about me being a responsible team captain you should just worry about actually becoming a responsible dad for once!” My voice was deep, I tried to keep my frustration inside as I stormed down the stairs and out of the front door, slamming it shut. He didn’t follow me.

I’d walked off most of my anger after about 5 minutes which happened to be when I realised I didn’t have a clue where I was going. Even though I had calmed down significantly, I still wasn’t ready to go home and see Dad again. My hand automatically patted the pocket of my jeans and I came to a stop.  
My fucking phone.  
I completely forgot that I’d left my phone in my hockey bag. To be fair though, between breaking my collarbone and ending up here, you can’t have expected me to keep track of it. Fortunately, the bus stops in this town had clocks.  
_6:25PM…_  
On a regular night, I would be getting ready to go to hockey practise around this time. Of course, I was in no shape to be practising now… But that couldn’t stop me from at least going to watch- after all, being there for moral support would’ve been, as my dad put it, the most “responsible” thing to do.

By the time I’d reached the arena, I hoped that I wasn’t late. Turns out it’s a lot further to walk than I imagined, I was just glad the weather was still fairly warm out since I hadn’t grabbed a jacket as I left the house. I pulled the cool, pole handle on the door and struggled my way through the gap in between. I strolled over to the entrance desk where I was greeted (or rather, not _actually_ greeted) by the young-teenage employee.  
I cleared my throat, “Hey, uh, I’m Jean Kirschtein, I’m with the Trost Tyrants?” I began, hoping that would be enough for them to let me in. I was wrong. They just stared at me, as apathetically as anyone could.  
They (rudely) looked me up and down before remarking, “You don’t look like one.” _What’s that supposed to mean, you little shit?_  
“Well, I haven’t got my kit because…” I pointed at my sling, “y’know… but I was just going to watch them practise anyway.” Still a blank stare.  
“Sorry. I can’t let you in.” Could this kid’s monotonous voice be any more irritating?  
“What!? Why not?” I questioned.  
“The rink is reserved right now, I can’t just let some random guy in just because he says he’s with the Tyrants.”  
“But I…” I trailed off, I wasn’t prepared for this to happen. Whilst I was forming some other kind of plan to get in, I heard the heavy doors open again behind me.  
“Kirschtein?” I recognised the voice and turned around. “What are you doing here?”  
“Coach Smith! I… uh, I just thought I would come along for… moral support?” I barely even knew why I was there.  
“I was going to text you, I really didn’t think you would be here. In fact, shouldn’t you be at home, resting? How did you even get here?” I really didn’t want to share with the coach why I wasn’t at home.  
“I, uh, I walked. Hey, um, could you tell this kid to let me in?” A faint smile drew on the corners of his mouth and he nodded at the employee. I turned around and discreetly sneered at them but truthfully, I was just relieved that he didn’t refuse and take me home instead.  
“I’ll see you in there then, Kirschtein. 7PM.” I smiled back as best I could.  
“Alright, Coach.”

* * *

 The cold air in the arena pinched at my bare skin, I really regretted not bringing a jacket now. As I walked over to the seating, I noticed that the figure skaters were training with their coaches – I was already aware that they had the rink reserved before our evening training but this time I actually had chance to sit and observe them for a little while.  
There were only a handful of skaters, I realised, but they were all clearly elite-level. I watched each of them individually: a young girl, probably about 11 years-old, I assumed she was the type that had been skating before she could walk; a woman in her early 30’s, possibly the mother of that girl since she was alone, but I couldn’t tell; and a girl who looked about my age, blonde, very pretty I had to admit, and relatively short… After my eyes had scanned over these people, my gaze was caught by one person in particular.  
I’d never seen him at the rink before; a tall, slender guy, with dark hair and… freckles. A _lot_ of freckles, dressed from head to toe in black, tight-fitting clothes. Now, I was quite sure with myself that I was _mostly_ straight (after all, I would be constantly called out by _someone_ on my team for being anything else), but this guy, his figure, his skating form, it would be an outrage not to think he was beautiful. Having only ever been on the ice for hockey, I wasn’t familiar with anything to do with figure skating but I could tell that this boy was _incredible_ at it, he was just so focused on what he was doing, leaping and twirling, twisting and spinning all so effortlessly, occasionally I spotted a small grin fall on his lips. It was cute.

My attention was soon diverted to the sound of obnoxious voices coming into the arena. I looked at the scoreboard clock.  
_6:55PM_  
Then it clicked, I knew who those voices belonged to.  
I looked back at the rink and noticed the boy I’d been watching had gone.  
“ _Hey sweetie, you going home to your boyfriend?_ ” I heard from the other side of the rink.  
_Ugh… Not this…_  
I quickly stood up and jogged over to the unpleasant cackling where I saw the figure skater sat, unlacing his skates with a dicksplit taunting him. He already looked… hurt by his remark.  
“Wagner, come on man, leave him alone.” I said, looking at the guy again to check if he was alright. Apparently he hadn’t even noticed me. Or he was ignoring me… probably the latter.  
“Oh, I’m sorry Kirschtein, I didn’t want to hurt your sissy feelings too!” He laughed again and playfully punched Marlowe’s arm next to him, who wasn’t looking as pleased with himself.  
“Piss off, Thomas.” I spat.  
“M’kay, Captain Kirsch-y” He replied, saluting sarcastically, I really don’t know how I can stand to be on the same team as him. I watched them both walk off towards the changing rooms before looking back at the guy who was taking his second skate off.  
“Um… Are you okay?” He picked up one of his skates and began drying the ice and moisture off blade with a towel but didn’t respond. “I’m sorry about that, he’s a real asshole.”  
“Don’t worry about it, I’m used to it by now anyway.” Okay, nice, more sarcasm. Now _I_ feel like an asshole. I didn’t know what to say to him. I just stood there, biting the inside of my lip and picking at the material of my sling.  
_I mean… I already apologised? Maybe I should apologise again. Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to me. Shit… I’m probably making him uncomfortable, I shouldn’t stand this close._  
I shuffled on my feet and moved about an inch back.  
_Wait, that looked weird. I probably look like I have to pee. Wait, goddammit, focus. I have to say something…_  
“Hey… I uh—”  
“Excuse me, I have to go” I was cut-off… I hadn’t noticed that he had finished packing away his skates and was ready to leave. But it felt like I had an unfulfilled duty by letting him just walk off. This wasn’t the first time Thomas Wagner had hurt someone’s feelings by being a homophobic prick, I decided it was time I actually did something about it, besides, I didn’t want to harbour the guilt of letting it slide. The boy had already left the building when I had made my mind up to stop him.  
I dashed out of the doors to the entrance and called out to him “Hey, wait up!” Surprisingly, he did just that and turned around to look at me, car keys in one hand with his skates bag over his shoulder, glowering at me. Not for nothing but he kinda looked like a model stood at that angle… I started walking as I approached him, “Wait, I’m really really sorry about all that, really! I—”  
“Thanks but I don’t need an apology from you.” He turned around and started walking off again.  
“No, wait! Listen,” _Shit, think fast Kirschtein,_ “I uh… I’m going to get some food, um, right now, do you wanna join me?” He looked perplexed by my babbling, I felt like an idiot… “Please, it’s the least I can do to make up for this.” I pleaded, staring at him with the best puppy-dog eyes I could make at this age. After glaring at me for another few seconds, he rolled his eyes and sighed, thankfully he didn’t look as angry now.  
“I do actually have somewhere to be right now. Sorry.” I thought he was bluffing earlier but watching him leave I could feel the guilt lessen ever so slightly as I saw him glance at me when he drove away, his expression nowhere near as  distressed as it was a couple of minutes earlier.

I breathed in deeply for a few seconds and exhaled as I kept my eyes on the car driving further and further away, subsequently realising that the time that whole episode took meant that practise would be starting very soon. Turning back to the building, I awkwardly ran for the entrance, trying to keep as much pressure off the fracture as I could manage, and squeezed through the large doors again, using my foot for assistance.  
“Uh, could you buzz me in again? I just had something to take care of outside.” I explained, moving towards the doors that led to the rink. The listless punk looked up at me from their phone, a grossly sardonic smile plastered on their face.  
“Um, sorry. I can’t let you in, rink’s reserved and you don’t look like you need to be there right now.”  
“ _What the fuck…?_ ” I muttered under my breath, my eyebrows knitted, “Listen, you little scrub, don’t test me right now.” They appeared to cockily gasp in my direction.  
“No need to be rude, Sir.”  
“I’m not being rude! You’re just being a douche.” I caught them sniggering at my reprisal before resuming their phony façade.  
“Sir, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Okay, _this_ motherfucker had it coming. I stomped up to the glass box that surrounded the desk and proceeded to plant my fist against the window, face-up, and unleashed the most insulting middle finger I could whilst scowling, not _at_ them, but into their goddamn soul. Stepping sideways, I dragged my gesture around the glass and began walking backwards to the doors, still making sure to burn my glare into them. Just for extra effect, I ensured my arm, flipping them off wildly, was the last body part to leave the building.

* * *

The sun was setting in the vibrant, red sky when I finally reached home, I had to knock on the front door to alert my dad that I was back. I’d anticipated to be welcomed with a stern-look and silence but to my surprise, the door flew open and Dad was stood there, looking… worried?  
“Jean!” he exclaimed, “Are you alright? You left so fast, you forgot your phone, I didn’t know where you’d gone!” I stepped inside the house and closed the door gently.  
“Dad, I’m fine…” I don’t know what it is but looking into his anxious eyes just made me feel… bad, for getting upset at him. “Dad, I’m sorry, for leaving like that.” I looked at my feet, too guilty to look at his face.  
“No, no,” he assured me, “It’s okay, son. _I’m_ sorry, I shouldn’t have argued with you.” His saddened tone made my eyes meet his. “You, uh, you must be tired by now, how about we sit on the couch and watch TV? You want a drink?” He asked, beginning to walk to the kitchen.  
“No, thanks, Dad, I’m going to bed.” My refusal made him look at me, a little upset, that kinda stung, if I’m honest.  
“Ah, okay, you go rest up, get that injury fixed up A-S-A-P!” He said jokingly, though part of me still assumed that was him being bitter over the fact that I’d be out of play for a few months. I made an effort to give him a thin smile as I paced over to the stairs.

Entering my room, I noticed my hockey bags on the floor next to my bed. Dad must’ve brought them in while I was gone… I softly shut the door behind me and walked up to the duffle, kneeling down beside it and unzipping the side pocket. Grabbing my phone, I examined the notifications on my lock screen as I sat down on my bed.

 **Armin**  
**Missed Call**  
  
Ah shit… He was probably calling to check in on me. The team would have been busy training so instead of calling; I elected to send a text to Coach Smith, predominantly to apologise for not showing up because of the ordeal in the arena entrance.  
  
**_sorry for not being at practise, had an issue with the kid at the desk again_**  
**_see you on tuesday?_**  
  
I kicked my shoes off – definitely easier than untying the laces with one hand while trying to stay somewhat upright – and lay on my pillows which were still stacked up.  
Staring at my blank ceiling, my mind pondered how the practise session would be going. Without me. I wasn’t upset. (Well… maybe I was.) I just really didn’t have an idea of what to do now. However much it pained me to think about, Dad could be right. Four months is plenty of time for the whole team to get better than me. Even, ugh, Thomas. The repulsive tool. My memory brought up the incident today and suddenly my mind was fixated on the tall guy in black. I recalled that I still hadn’t made up for what Thomas said to him, for all I knew the dude was sat at home crying about it. Sure that was pretty unlikely but… it still didn’t feel right to leave things the way I did.

Inhaling a quick breath, I sat up and looked down at my sling – it was a reminder of the near future. Normally, in a state like this, I would devote my time to doing absolutely nothing (I mean, why would I try being useful if Netflix exists?). But now I felt like I had a purpose, even if it was one that would seem insignificant to anyone else, I could spend the next few days trying to find that guy at the rink again, to make right my teammate’s wrong. I could use this opportunity to do something better than my usual-self would.  


A twinge of excitement sparked within me; I wanted to see that boy again, skating or not.


	2. Opposites Attract

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A simple apology becomes a trashy date. But it's not really a date. Really.

Summer always made me appreciate the freezing temperature inside the ice arena; sweat from the heat outside was making my shirt cling uncomfortably to my skin (more so than it already did). I opened my car trunk to retrieve my skates and headed to the rink entrance.

“Hey! Marco, over here! Hi!” The gleeful voice that caught my attention happened to be my beyond-lovely skating coach, “You doing good?” she asked,  
“Hi, Petra. Yeah, I’m doing alright thanks! You?” We exchanged pleasantries on the way into the building and she told me about the spa that she had visited over the weekend.

“Ugh and the _massages_!” I laughed to myself at her enthusiasm for suchlike, soothing recreations whilst tightening the black laces on my skates. “I’m telling you Marco, you should go for one sometime.” Self-pampering wasn’t something I was familiar with but I can’t say I was opposed to the idea of trying it. Especially the way Petra was selling the idea.  
“Oh, I’m sure I should.” I agreed.  
“By the way, I’m really sorry that I wasn’t here on Sunday evening. That wasn’t a problem, was it?”  
“No no, not at all!” I thought about what happened on that day again, my heart felt ever so slightly heavier – I tried to ignore it. “I can handle training without you.” I teased her, grinning mischievously.  
“Sure you can, buddy, that’s why I’m here right now.” She teased back before striding over to the boards, signalling me to hurry up and join her. Petra wasn’t my first coach (she certainly wasn’t even old enough to be) but we clicked better than any I’d had. After fastening my second skate, I slipped on my gloves and followed her lead, stepping smoothly onto the ice with a small push for momentum.

Although it had been years since, I still remembered how my first few times on the ice went: nervous stepping, arms wobbly held wide out for balance, my heart racing every time I almost lost my footing. Anyone could tell back then that I wasn’t a natural skater but I was determined, however many times I fell down my willpower never faltered. It’s kinda cliché… but skating really was my true passion, I’m never more alive than when I’m gliding around the rink. While focusing on my movements and Petra’s voice, I don’t have any problems or worries; nothing has any meaning to me except the exhilaration that’s pumping through my blood. Our session today took place during the early-afternoon which was when many visitors amassed. I never said it aloud but I saw it as a secret, personal challenge.  Skimming around the outside of the rink, I weaved through the casual skaters as Petra directed me, coasting backwards effortlessly. Occasionally, I would catch glimpses of people’s eyes following me when I showed off with smooth twizzles and swift crossovers at each end of the ice.

I had no idea how but, out of all the people around, my eyes managed to fixate on those of one spectator in particular – the same boy who stood up to that jerk the other day, stood on the outer side of the boards looking in. At first I thought it was just coincidence that he was there. And that we looked right at each other. But after I glanced back a few times, I realised he wasn’t just leisurely watching the skaters go by… He was watching _me_.

“Marco,” Petra’s voice caught my attention and detached my mind from the inadvertent distraction. “Come over to the inside here, I want you to go for a scratch spin, okay?” I saw the clear space she was referring to near the centre of the rink and nodded. Though I never challenged her judgement, I didn’t see why I couldn’t have a go at dazzling my ‘audience’ for the heck of it – I wanted to prove that I was cool without his pity, it’s not like I was going to disregard Petra’s instruction anyway. Preparing myself, I headed speedily towards the empty spot and promptly turned on my foot to drift backwards. Without delay I quickly turned and pivoted on my left blade and progressed into a spin with my left leg elevated. My arms were held, gracefully, just below perpendicular, my body tense. I briefly closed my eyes, finding my balance. Just then, I pulled my arms and lifted leg gradually closer to my body, spinning faster as I did so. _Might as well wow the crowd…_ As I twirled, I began to raise my arm up, my whole body becoming a spiralling illusion to those who watched.  
“Good!” I vaguely heard Petra praising me. Coming out of the spin, I skated backwards and advanced onto something that I knew would impress far more than my previous trick. First, I checked there was enough space around me to pull this one off… _Check_. Second, I proceeded to skate into a camel spin – my body right-angled to my grounded leg, and if that alone didn’t astound everyone around me, I swiftly grasped my skate-blade behind me and gradually lifted my torso up, looking to the ceiling and stretching back. Fact: Nothing impresses people more than displaying the extent of your flexibility. I smirked to myself and after revolving several times, I released my foot and skated out of the stance.

“Well well. Having fun, are we?” Petra quipped, skating up behind me.  
“What are you talking about? I’m still warming up.” I replied, humouring her wit. Quickly, I took a second to see how that boy was handling my insane skills.  
Except… He wasn’t there. I stopped, motionless, and looked around to see if he was still about.  
“Hey, you alright there, bud?” She must have noticed my confusion.  
“Um, yeah, sorry… I was just thinking about something.” I turned to look at her and smiled, indicating that I was fine, “Come on, let’s keep going.” I started to glide backwards, motioning for _her_ to follow me now.

* * *

We continued with our time on the ice, I kept to her coaching and conclusively we shared a high five – a gesture that had become the symbol of our session ending.  
“You did well today, Marco, great job.” She told me as we stepped off the ice. “Listen, I’ve gotta get going but I’ll see you later, yeah?”  
“Yeah, see you soon, Petra.” I watched her walk away for a couple of seconds before beginning to take my skates off. Inhaling and exhaling, I felt content. I didn’t need any massages or spa breaks to relax, skating was therapy enough for me. But no sooner after that thought crossed my mind, _someone_ just had to go and contradict it.  
“Hey! Hi, again.” Initially, I thought that acknowledgement was aimed at somebody else until I saw feet approaching where I sat. I looked up to meet the eyes of the mysterious, disappearing boy.  
“Are you stalking me or what?” he seemed surprised by my perfectly legitimate question.  
“No! I just… wanted to know if you’re busy.”  
“What’s it matter to you?” I asked suspiciously.  
He looked quite troubled actually… “ _Please_ let me buy you something to eat.”  
_Dammit…_ I didn’t want to feel sorry for him but with that face he was making it difficult.  
I sighed, rubbing my forehead with my palm. It had to be said; he was undoubtedly persistent, if nothing else. Usually I would grab something to eat after I’d been skating so technically it would just been the same situation but with someone else there.  
“Will you leave me alone if I accept your offer?” I bargained.  
“Yes! I just feel really bad about what happened.” _You didn’t even do anything wrong though…  
_ “Fine, okay, whatever.” I said, still pretty irked. “Where do you wanna go?”  
“You can pick, my treat.” _Wow, how courteous.  
_ “Alright, well _I’ll_ drive I guess,” I stated, glancing at his arm “you can wait outside or something, it’s probably too cold in here and I need to take my skates off.” He agreed and walked away, turning back once to check on me for some reason.

* * *

Pushing open the door, I looked around to find the taupe-haired guy stood at the side of the entrance, typing on his phone – seemingly as fast as he could with one hand.  
“What’s the holdup?” I called out, making his eyes shoot up at me.  
“Nothing!” He responded awkwardly, fumbling to stuff his phone in his back pocket. He trotted over and trailed behind as I started walking to my car. “Um,” I heard him begin, “What’s your name?” _You’d think he’d have the decency to introduce himself first. Jeez…  
_ “Marco.” I replied statically, expecting another name to be spoken in turn. However there wasn’t one. Scanning his face, it appeared as though he was processing the information I just told him, sort of strange I had to admit. “And you are…?”  
“Oh! Uh, Jean. Sorry.” _Jean, huh? I wasn’t expecting a name like that but it does kinda suit him._ I unlocked my car and gestured to the passenger door before placing my skates on the back seat, subsequently getting in behind the wheel. I buckled my seatbelt and turned the key in the ignition, starting the engine. The swiping sound of the passenger seatbelt notified me that _Jean_ was having a hard time trying to engage his.  
“Um, do you need some help with that?” I offered, maybe not as politely as I could’ve…  
“No, I’ve got it, really.” He insisted, immediately losing grip of the clasp and having to start again. I rolled my eyes and rested my hands on the steering wheel. A fair amount of seconds later, he had succeeded and we were ready to go to the food-place of my choosing.

* * *

“McDonald’s?” Jean piped up as I turned into the parking lot. “Really?”  
“What, you don’t like it?” I asked, baffled by his surprised reaction.  
“No, no, I dig it…” he began hesitantly, “but I thought you’d be some kind of health freak”  
_Gee whiz, thanks kid._  
“with a body like that y’know?”  
_O-Oh…_  
A simultaneous feeling of minor-offence and pretty major-flattery flushed my face, apparently noticeably too, judging by his following panic and stammering.  
“I-… That’s not what I meant! I—”  
“It’s fine. I know what you meant…” I assured him; tensely gripping the steering wheel tighter, he seemed to shrink into the seat. As I drove slowly past the front of the building, Jean reached to his seat belt buckle, about to unclip it before I interjected. “Ah ah, don’t take it off yet.” I warned him, crawling behind the car in front which was taking the same route as us into the drive thru. Jean was looking at me funny (I assumed, based off my peripheral vision) and I just waited for him to ask why I was going this way, yet the question didn’t come before we paused by the ordering system. The virtually inaudible speaker greeted us and (probably) asked for our order.  
“Hi, uh, can I get a Buttermilk Crispy Chicken Deluxe and fries?” The employee confirmed my order and I twisted to the passenger side, “What do you want?”  
“Oh, I don’t want anything, ‘m not hungry.” That response _deserved_ the incredibly bewildered look that I shot him. He shrugged at me and I shook my head, communicating with the employee that “That’s all.”

* * *

After paying for and collecting _my_ food – giving the bag to Jean to hold while I drove off, I thought it worth using my precious time and energy to ask “Why did you suggest going for food if you aren’t even hungry?”  
“Well, I couldn’t think of anything else to do…” This guy was nothing short of unbelievable. Still… I suppose I couldn’t be that mad at him, after all, he _was_ buying me lunch so I didn’t let his weird behaviour bother me too much. As I proceeded to drive towards the furthest part of the parking lot, he spoke again, “Why are you parking over here? Why not just eat inside?” I waited until I had finished reversing into the space to answer him. Taking off my seatbelt, I turned and glowered at him expressionlessly before picking the bag up off his lap and rooting through it.  
“Too noisy inside, prefer it being quiet.” Hearing him shuffle in his seat a little, I ate a few fries before beginning any small talk. “So,” I paused to eat a couple more fries, “What’s with the, uh…” He looked in the direction of my eyeline and realised I was referring to his resting shoulder.  
“Oh, I uh… I got injured in the hockey game on Sunday, fractured my clavicle.”  
“Oh…” My chewing slowed. “Was it bad?”  
“Not really!” I was surprised by his instant reply, then he stuttered “Uh, well actually yes, sorry, I don’t know why I said no. It’s actually…” a dry laugh escaped his throat “Terrible. I can’t play again for a few months.” He wasn’t looking at me anymore, he seemed to stare into space, sullen-faced. I stiffly swallowed the chewed-up food in my mouth. Almost just as fast, he brightened up a little and spoke, actually making eye contact with me this time. “But it’s fine, I’m not too upset about it.” Somehow, I didn’t entirely believe him.  
“I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about it anymore if you don’t want to.”  
“No, it’s okay.” He insisted, “Anyway, I didn’t offer to buy you food just so I could talk about myself” He attempted a smile; albeit sort of a sombre one (I didn’t blame him) and I gave an amused huff in response. There was _one_ thing I was truly keen to understand,  
“I have to ask though, what _were_ you doing at the ice rink on the _same_ day you broke your clavicle then?” Observing his features, it looked like he _winced_ almost… Moving uncomfortably in his seat, he wrapped his unhindered arm across his stomach, underneath his sling.  
“I had a fight with my dad.”  
_Oh God… This is emotional territory I wasn’t prepared to be in._ I realised my mistake of asking and after leaving the heavy silence to sit for a few moments, I made a panicked effort to try and correct it.  
  
“Are you two okay now?”  
“Um, yeah… We haven’t really fought about it much since” _It…?_ “but I think he’s still pretty peeved at me.” He still had a pretty hopeless expression and I felt kind of guilty for causing it. I panicked a little more and tried to change the subject.  
“So you live with your parents?”  
He quickly corrected me, “Par _ent_.” _Shit._ “My mom and dad divorced when I was a lot younger for some reason he hasn’t told me, I don’t know where she went.” _Shiiiit. I’m really doing a fine job here, aren’t I?_ The guilt shamed me all over again. Jean brought me out of my mental-face-palming state and my eyes flew up to his again. “You don’t live with yours?”  
“Ah, uh, not anymore. I moved out last year, just wanted to be a little more independent I guess.”  
His head turned and he stared out of the windscreen, I couldn’t really decipher if he was contemplating something or not. It didn’t seem right to disturb him from his thoughts so I chose to eat a single fry, the sound of the paper bag rustling was slightly unnerving but he still didn’t seem fazed.  
“Marco…” His voice actually caught me off-guard, especially hearing him say my name out loud for the first time. “How old are you?” I suppose that’s a fairly normal question, right…?  
“I’m 19.” I told him, smiling softly in an attempt to lighten his mood, whatever it happened to be. His eyes moved away from me briefly, in a melancholic manner, so I assumed I should interrupt his perpetual thinking this time. “How about you?”  
“Oh, uh, same. I’m 19 too.” _Wait, he’s 19?_ I wasn’t _shocked_ shocked, I just didn’t really expect that, my guess was he was at least under 18 – though in retrospect, it probably would’ve been weird for me to take some underage guy to McDonald’s… Or maybe that was over-thinking it. “If you’re only 19, how do you afford to live by yourself?” If we were going to have a chat that succeeded small talk, there was no point in killing my car battery. I twisted the key towards me and the air conditioning dissipated immediately, leaving us to stew in the heat which would soon consume us.  
“Uh well, I don’t.” I chuckled awkwardly. “I have a roommate, we split the rent obviously and it’s a small apartment so it doesn’t cost too much between us. Y’know, I have a pretty stable job so income isn’t really an issue and I don’t go to college so I have free time. A lot of it.” I laughed uneasily again, this wasn’t something I had a problem with personally, but I always got the feeling that other people saw me as ‘lesser’ when I shared with them that I didn’t actually _want_ to go to college.  
“Oh, that’s cool! Do you two get along? Or is he like, one of those nightmare roomies?” Apparently Jean wasn’t one of those people. And thankfully, he had perked up a bit.  
“No, no, we’re good.” I lit up genuinely, mirroring his mood, “ _She_ is actually very nice. And considerate.” I added.  
“Woah, dude, you live with a chick?” For the next minute or so, I indulged him with the disappointing information that residing with a girl did not mean I had wild, shameless intercourse – or anything related – every day and night, like I assumed he imagined.  
“Anyway,” It felt like it was about time to stop talking about my own life, “enough about me. What about you? What do you do?”  
“I’m currently a freshman at Rose Uni, studying French. For some goddamn reason…” He explained. “Well, I mean I _was_ , I’ve finished my first year, summer break started just over a week ago.”  
“Wow, broke a bone at the start of summer? That sucks” I pointed out.  
“Haha, right?” We both chuckled a little at the concept. “Well… Actually that’s part of the reason why my dad is mad at me. Since he’s a single parent, _he’s_ been earning the money that makes it possible for me to go to college but…” He stopped, mid-sentence and placed his hand on his brows, rubbing them wearily. “It’s not easy to afford. I didn’t earn money during high school because I was busy studying and Dad let me use the rest of my spare time to play hockey. He just wanted me to be happy…”  Not that his intent was to talk about his own issues but I was starting to feel really bad for him nonetheless, he had it pretty rough. “I could see that it was really draining him so I said I’d get a job this summer to help out but obviously this fucking injury screwed that plan up fantastically.” He shook his head and his eyes followed someone walking to their car outside. “Oh, sorry, language… Sorry.”  
“Don’t worry, I don’t mind.” I reassured, making him feel any worse was the last thing I wanted. I watched him inhale deeply, eyes closed – I don’t think he let the breath out.  
“Sorry, I don’t wanna be a downer. So, how long have you been skating for?” Secretly, I felt relieved that he changed the subject and I was more than happy to go along with it.  
“Well, I started before I was 6. So about… 13? Something years? God… It’s really been that long already, huh. My mom took us to watch a skating competition, which I really didn’t want to go to, but once I’d stopped sulking about it and actually watched, I was just _so_ amazed I begged her to let me do it.” Recalling the finer details, I laughed, “I don’t think she thought _I’d_ be the one to want to skate but such is life, right?” I noticed that my smile had managed to catch on and Jean already looked slightly more content.  
“It’s really good that you kept it up for so long, I mean, it’s gotta be much more than a hobby if you’ve been doing it for that many years.” Sherlock here was dead-on with that deduction.  
“Yeah, it is. But I don’t think there’s a way of saying that without being weird about it and calling it a ‘way of life’ or something.” I joked. “What about you though? Haven’t you been skating for a long time?”  
“Not as long as you, I just used to watch hockey on TV with my dad, never thought about actually trying it but when I was about 14, one of my friends said he was going to try it because the rink here did hockey lessons. We were both pretty decent so we joined a minor team and, well y’know, here’s what’s become of us now.”  
“Oh, so is your friend still on the same team as you?” I asked, slightly captivated.  
“Yeah, not gonna lie, he can be a little irritating at times but we do work pretty well together so I’m glad that he’s on my team.”  
“I’ve never really been into ice hockey but it’d be cool to see you play sometime.” A genuine warmth manifested on my lips and Jean reciprocated… before I realised my blunder. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry, again.” He looked at his sling and his smile actually broadened…? Strange, I thought he would’ve felt bad about that.  
“It’s fine, I forgot as well for a minute there.” He gently placed his hand onto his shoulder. “But, same from me, I’d like to see you skating again. U-Uh, but this time with your permission, um, of course…” He assured me nervously, making me chuckle.  
“Yes, you have my permission to see me skate if that’s what you really want.”  
“Well, y’know, it’s not that I _really really_ want to, but I’ve only seen you do it twice and it’s really something…” That was pretty gratifying, coming from someone I don’t--… someone I _barely_ know.  
“Thanks, man. That’s nice to hear.” I told him, probably being somewhat modest.  
“No, no, I mean it! You’re like really good and when I watched you skating it was like... so breath-taking and that spinny-spin thing you did was _incredible_ a-and...” His eyes widened, mouth snapping shut. I wouldn’t have been surprised if his face was slipping into more of a red hue under the hand he’d slapped over his features. “Oh my God, sorry, I’m sorry, this is probably really weird to hear from me, I’ll stop talking.” He wasn’t looking at me but the silence in the car was soon replaced by me laughing at his withered frenzy.  
“It’s fine! It’s fine. Thank you, Jean. It’s not every day I get complimented like that, I appreciate it.” There was no way anyone could fake that mess of words, he really did seem like an honest guy, I couldn’t hold any kind of grudge against that. He uncovered his face and managed to look a little happier, embarrassment subsiding.

I suppose neither of us could think of what else to say as we sat in the quiet and slightly unpleasant heat, watching pedestrians and cars make their ways around outside. A few moments later, he spoke up again “Hey, you’re not eating your food.” He pointed at the paper bag which had been sat on my lap. I asked myself if it was really worth feeding me this crap right now for no good reason.  
“Mmm, it’s whatever, I’m not that hungry. McDonald’s is trash anyway.” The answer was, of course, no. “Sorry, I won’t make you pay for it.” But he still tried to stick to his word, reaching for his jeans pocket.  
“No, no! You have to let me, it’s only fair after what happened. I just… I feel really bad, they _hurt_ you and I wanted to be the one to make up for it.” _And they said chivalry was dead._  
“Seriously man, it’s fine. Don’t worry about the other day either, it’s in the past and I could care less about it.” Maybe I wasn’t being super truthful with myself but I was sure that I didn’t want this guy to feel as guilty as he was acting. He’d pretty much earned at least that by now. Oddly enough, he was the one to let out a sigh this time, accepting that I wouldn’t allow him to do anymore to ‘make up’ for the prior incident.  
“Okay, but you have to tell me if it happens again so I can punch that shit-head, Wagner, right in his sorry face. Got it?” His beef with that dude definitely surpassed whatever beef he had with him involving me but that guy probably deserved it.  
“Sure, got it.” I promised, holding my hands up to prove there was no sneaky crossing of fingers. “I don’t know _how_ I’m supposed to tell you but, yeah, y’know whatever, I’ll pass a message along.” I jested, grinning cheekily. His squinted a tad, eyebrows dipped in thought.  
“Um… Is it weird if I add you on Facebook?” He asked, “That way you could tell me if anything happens, if he says something again, a-and like, uh…” I didn’t find his request too weird, I was more focused on how flustered he was getting, asking about it. Me, being as kind as I am, put an end to his flapping.  
“It’s okay. But maybe just exchanging phone numbers is enough for now. Like, no offence but I don’t _really_ know you so… this is an alright compromise, isn’t it?”  
“Right! Yeah, oops… I dunno, I thought that’d be weirder to ask for but, no, you’re right, sorry. I mean, only if you’re okay with that, I don’t wanna force you or anythi—” _Oh boy, he probably has a gold medal in blathering._  
“Jean.” That shut him up. “It’s _okay,_ ” I spelled out slowly, “it’s not a big deal. Here, get your phone out.” He complied and I did the same, grabbing my phone from the cup holder. Upon clicking the ‘Home’ button, I came across an abundance of texts and missed calls from my mother which had accumulated thanks to me forgetting to turn silent off since last night. “Ah… Shit.”  
“What is it?”  
“I totally forgot, I was supposed to drive to my house today after skating.”  
“Your house? I thought you lived in an apartment?”  
“No, my parents’ house, it’s in Karanese so I really should’ve set off by now but it completely slipped my mind!” I exclaimed, worrying about what my mom was going to do when I showed up late. Quickly clipping in my seat belt, I asked Jean to do the same. He quietly followed my command. “Where do you live? I’ll drop you off.” I decided, throwing the bag of food into the backseat footwell.  
“Oh… Uh, on Aspen Drive. I can just direct you to it from here if that’s easiest?”  
“Um, yeah, that’ll probably be best.” I agreed, starting the engine and putting the gear into reverse. As I turned in my seat, looking out of the rear window, I reversed out of the parking space and heard Jean speak.  
“I… I know it’s probably not the time but… do you know your number without checking your phone?” I couldn’t look at him because I was too busy trying to drive onto the main road again but I still knew what he was getting at. Luckily, I _did_ know my number off by heart and I honestly felt like he had earned enough of my trust for me to give it to him. I couldn’t deny it; he was good company and I appreciated what he’d done for me, even if it was a strange method. After we safely made it onto the road and he had told me which direction to drive, I cleared my throat a little.  
“You got your phone ready?”  
“Huh?” I heard a faint _tick tick_ and then a click, “O-Oh! Yeah, hang on.” He hurriedly unlocked his phone and opened up a new contact profile. “Okay, ready.” I chuckled and carefully recited the numbers, Jean repeating me after each chunk of digits.  
“Got it?” A faint smile pulled my cheeks. He read out the number and I confirmed it for him. “Good.”

We had been driving in the glaring sun for a few minutes when I heard my text tone and the buzz of my phone rattling in the cup holder.  
“Hey, could you check that for me?” I asked.  
“I think that’s me. I texted you so you’d have my number.” Jean leant over to look at the angled screen and nodded. “Yep, just me.” As soon as he reclined into his seat, the text tone played again, accompanied by the loud vibration.  
“That you too?” He looked at me, puzzled, and shook his head, leaning forward to look at my phone.  
“It’s, um, someone called Maddy? Asking where you are?” I smiled, amazed that she cared about me enough to ask where I was. “You got a girlfriend?” he sat up, eyebrows raised, smirking inquisitively.  
“What? Ew, gross, dude no, that’s my sister.” I laughed, that actually was the first time anyone had made that leap.

Eventually, we made it to a more residential area. My eyes watched the surroundings as I drove; we were in a pretty nice neighbourhood, lots of large, lush green trees, most of the houses had well-kept yards.  
“Go right, here.” I pulled out from the quiet junction. The whole road was pretty tranquil actually, I wouldn’t have minded having a house here just to sit in the garden and relax, read a book or something. We were approaching a sign in the near-distance and Jean pointed at the road turn, “Just down there.” As we moved closer, I saw that the sign read ‘Aspen Dr’.

Stopping in front of the house, he unclicked his seat belt and opened the car door, pausing for a split second and turning his head to me.  
“Talk to you soon?” He said unsurely, more of a question than a statement. I was in a rush but I thought it kind to take the time to give him a gentle smile.  
“Yeah, okay.” His features unstiffened as his face brightened up then he stepped out of my car, once again, turning around and holding the door.  
He inhaled a small breath through his mouth, “Thank you for doing this.” His voice was low and sensitive, as if this lousy trip to McGarbageDump really meant something to him.  
“No biggie.” I shrugged and he shut the door, quirking the corner of his lips before walking to the front of his house. In that time, I remembered just how late I was going to be if I kept on sitting around and so I hastily set off again, unfortunately sparing no time to politely wave goodbye.

* * *

Even standing outside, the lively atmosphere from within the house was easily recognisable. Before I could lift my keys up to the door lock, it swung open and presented falsely in front of me was my sister, appearing in summery apparel and _obviously_ not preparing to mock me when our mom found out I was here, late.  
“Heeeey Marco.” She sneered, leaning against the door frame; pulling her long, wavy hair over to one shoulder.  
“Heeeey Maddy.” I mimicked, “Wanna let me inside?”  
“Wanna let Mom know you’re here?” She snickered, I rolled my eyes at her – it didn’t matter that we were the same age; she still managed to act super childish sometimes.  
“Nope.” I answered, stepping forward. She shifted out of the way and I made my way to the empty kitchen, throwing my keys on the island counter. It occurred to me that it was in my best interest to tell Mom I was here _now_ before she clocked how long it took for me to arrive. From the volume of the hearty laugh in a near room, finding her wouldn’t be a problem.  
“Mom, I’m home!” I called out as I wandered over to the living room. The laughing faded and in its place were voices, not just my mom’s but another familiar feminine voice.  
“Marco! So good to see you!” Came a shrill voice, “How have you been?” The woman stood up in her tall heels and giraffe-walked across the living room floor, managing not to step on the two children who sat there.  
“Hi, Auntie Erica, I’m doing good, thanks.” She coerced me into a tight bear hug and I was unsure if she had even heard my response. Pulling away, she leaned back and cradled my cheek in her hand, her extravagant ring cold on my skin.  
“Awww, look at you, I swear you grow every time I see you!” A large, toothy-grin swept across her face. I had grown accustomed to her excessive personality throughout my life so this was nothing out of the ordinary. Beaming back at her, I quickly glanced at my mom who was sat on the couch, looking at me with crossed arms and raised brows. Waving discreetly, I mouthed a _Sorry!_ to her.  
“It’s only been a few months…” I mentioned to my touchy-feely aunt, though it seemed she elected to make no point of my remark. She finally let go of me and moved out of the way, my uncle taking her place, a man who was unusually tall compared to our family (though he wasn’t related by blood so it was of no surprise). “Hey, Uncle Freddy.” I greeted him, lifting my hand to meet with his for one of those handshake/man-hug type deals. His grip was a firm one which matched the strong thud he patted on my back.  
“What’s up, Marco? Still doing your skating thing, I see?” He speculated, referring to my clothes.  
“Yeah, still doing that.” I confirmed, before kneeling down and acknowledging the couple of youngsters on the carpet. “Hey, how’s it goin’, you two?” They were giggling shyly and trying to hide from me, it was pretty adorable. “You’ve grown up so much since I last saw you!” Suddenly I was seeing my auntie in myself so I ruffled the hair on my cousins’ heads and hastily rose to my feet again, turning to my mom and dad. “Hi, Mom, hi, Dad.” I said sheepishly, leaning down to place a peck on my mother’s cheek.  
“Marco, you were supposed to be here earlier! Did you even bring the groceries I asked for?” _Groceries, oh yeah, oops._ I stared blankly at her then offered an anxious laugh which turned out not to be helpful as she just rolled her eyes at me. “It doesn’t matter, I sent your brother to get them instead.” I groaned, knowing he wouldn’t be pleased with my oversight when he returned. The safest course of action was to let my parents know that I was about to disappear again for a while. Because I was.  
“Hey, I’m gonna go out back for a while just so you don’t think I’ve run off.” I told them, beginning to walk towards the door.  
“You know, you shouldn’t do that when your auntie and uncle are here, Marco.”  
“But Daaaaad,” I dragged out huffily “I’m old enough to go sit by the lake if I want tooooo.” He sighed and smiled at my stroppy act. Mom spoke up to clarify.  
“Okay go, but be back to help out when I start making dinner later.” She warned me and I always heeded her warnings.  
“Alright, Mama.” I winked at her which earned a rolling of her eyes once more. Skipping out for extra effect, I left the room. My current clothes were feeling sweaty and uncomfortable so I took a quick detour to my bedroom to change into shorts and a tank top (and a jacket too, just in case) grabbing my headphones on the way out before I hurried to the lake.

* * *

Though the sun was past its highest point in the cloud-scattered sky, the warm weather held up, making for a comfortable temperature to lounge in. I waltzed over to one of the wooden chairs and plopped down onto it, grasping my phone and headphones out of my pocket. As I plugged them into the jack, I glanced up and observed that there were only a couple of others out at the lake too. Fortunately, I had a large amount of space to myself to decompress. Flicking through my playlists, I selected the one I had titled ‘Lake Chill’ (plus a little tree emoji), simple and effective, right? I sat back contentedly and allowed my mind to be put at ease, resting my eyelids and tapping my fingers to the beat of the song.

_BZZT BZZT_

The combination of my phones vibration and text tone spooked me a little and I looked down at my screen. For a moment, I was puzzled because the number wasn’t registered in my contacts until I read the text preview:

**_thanks again dude, sorry about bein weird…_ **

I laughed inwardly, I hadn’t sensed how insecure Jean really was. But he was genuine – that’s what stood out most. It came back to me how he had gotten himself into a tangle whilst talking sweetly about my skating… An involuntary smirk spread on my lips; my chest felt like it was glowing with warmth. I unlocked my phone and typed out a response without delay.

**_thank /you/. you weren’t weird haha._ **

**_I enjoyed your company, Jean :^)_**

After tapping send, I made sure to create a new contact for him in my phone. I gazed over the reflective water and momentarily perused the ground beside me, reaching over the chairs armrest to pick up a small pebble bit. I held it for a few seconds, feeling the texture between my fingers, then jumped up and promptly tossed it into the lake, studying the movement of the ripples. I quietly sang along to the closing chorus of the song that was playing and thought about what sort of new relationship I had formed with this curious and unexpected acquaintance.

 _“And know me no you don't even know me_  
You're so sweet to try oh my, you caught my eye  
A girl like you's just irresistible”

The last strum of the guitar hummed in my ears as I plonked back onto the chair, leaning forward, eyes focused on the diminishing water movement. I inhaled a deep breath and gradually sighed it back out, becoming increasingly more aware of my own solitude.

Being with Jean reminded me just how good having a real friend felt. As the luscious leaves on the tree branches fluttered in harmony with the vitality of the lake, I hoped that what Jean and I already had would somehow bloom into a similar companionship.

_BZZT BZZT_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao waddup it's literally 4AM right now and im Dea d  
> luckily i don't have to wake up early tomorrow otherwise i would be screwed terribly aha  
> this is a very dialogue-heavy chapter which i thought might be an issue but honestly, 6.5k words later, i could care less orz im fairly sure this is an improvement to chapter 1  
> hopefully that chapter summary suffices and again, thank you for reading, leaving kudos, comments and bookmarking - it's means more than you know <3
> 
> chapter 3 may not present itself so soon but i promise i'll be trying hard ( o_ó)9


	3. All Fun and Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean is introduced to a new face. Well… If you consider someone you’ve already met before as new. Plus, summer fun!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: i made a playlist.. rather The playlist marco plays in this chapter but maybe don't click the link until u read all of it because it's mild spoil? maybe? https://open.spotify.com/user/1186427508/playlist/2SOqYje0Wq3zpcJZXrTnFJ?si=JTxYmIoQQDyL6gHBZE6vrw
> 
> hI HELO it's me again, it's bee hah a... sorry for the almost-2-year wait for this chapter....  
> i started writing it after the second chapter but didn't really know where i was going with the plot so that was very discouraging bUT i recently picked it all back up and figured out what i'm doing and i'm very excited to say that i finished this aaaand i hope u love it!!!! (pls have mercy tho, i'm rly excited to post this so i'm gonna proof read it tomorrow lol)
> 
> as usual, i'm still sort of existent on twitter @forestbirb, rarely existent on tumblr but have a look at 2-bee.tumblr.com if u want, maybe i'll start posting more art when i have my shit together lol
> 
> ANYWAy, i'll ramble at bit more in the notes after this chapter, good luck and have fun reading hah

The lawn grabbed the attention of my eyes just a little behind where he stood. Armin was paying me an impromptu visit at my front door and after a _very_ brief exchange of words, he let out a disgruntled sigh and frowned weakly, causing my chest to feel slightly heavier. I was guilty of absent-mindedly ignoring him – though in my defence, my mind had been sort of… preoccupied lately.

“I really didn’t think you’d show up at my house though.” I spoke, nervously adding a dry laugh.

A look of displeasure settled quickly on his features. “Was this a bad attempt at trying to cut me off for whatever reason?” My eyes jumped to his, making me feel guilty all over again for leading him to believe something like that.

“No! I just… I’m sorry, dude, I’ve just been busy recently.” It wasn’t a lie but it was a poor excuse for the truth – which, no doubt, he would expose from me soon enough.

“Busy? You didn’t even have time to tell me what’d been going on with you?”

“I did! The other day, y’know, you texted me and I told you I was busy.” He squinted at me slowly and I wondered if I had done something _else_ wrong.

“Seriously, Jean? Have you even looked at your phone since you sent that?” Another hook of shame tugged down at my chest. I _had_ looked at my phone, quite a fair bit in fact, just not at our text conversation. Clearly, he was speaking rhetorically as he pulled out his phone and opened up the conversation, turning the screen around to show me.

**_heh armin sorry i havrbt spoken to u but i have a thjnf right bow so ill tlak later ok???? busy_ **

I winced at the gibberish before me. Now it made a whole lot more sense as to why Armin was pissed at me.  
“And by the way, that wasn’t “the other day”, that was like two weeks ago.”  Sighing defeated, I stepped back to invite him in so I could properly explain why my communication had been severely lacking. Yet strangely he remained in place and shook his head, seemingly going back to tapping his phone. When he raised it back to my line of sight, I saw another text conversation, between Connie and him. As I read the messages onscreen, Armin spoke up.

“You’re not busy right now so you’re coming with me. Connie has a ‘surprise’ for us.” He asserted, lazily throwing a single air-quote up at me.

_A surprise?_ I wondered what sort of dumb shocker he could have come up with so out of the blue. It wasn’t often that he did things like this but when he did, _boy_ did he like to be reckless about it. Last time I fell victim to one of these acts, the guy got into my dorm at college somehow to ‘surprise’ me for my birthday. Needless to say, I pretty much freaked out when I walked into a room that, at the time, was _supposed_ to be empty and got a party popper in the face – punched his arm so hard he rolled around on the floor, whining like a baby for a good five whole minutes after.

Not that I had much of a choice apparently but I agreed to go with him to see what Connie had up his sleeve. I attempted to slip on my still-fastened shoes, holding onto the doorframe for balance before Armin assisted me by undoing the laces properly. God, I must’ve seemed incredibly pathetic to him that day – I certainly felt like it again. Grabbing my jacket, phone, and painkillers, I stepped out of the house and hoped that whatever surprise was waiting for us didn’t come with a risk of injury or death. 

* * *

We walked a few minutes after parking the car until Armin stopped and announced “We’re here.”

I stood back to observe the establishment we had arrived at. It was a café? A quite charming one actually… In a small enclosed area out front sheltered by striped awning, sat customers on each of the tables that were arranged neatly, atop them were petite vases with mini flower bunches. On the building were two large window frames, with a few more customers seated behind the glass, looking out at the street before them.

“He said he’s upstairs.” Armin elaborated, walking towards the door to hold it open for me. I followed and as we entered, the strong, warming fragrance of freshly ground coffee welcomed us. As we walked through the ground floor, I noticed that the café’s interior didn’t exactly match up to the look outside, though it still contained the same quaint appeal. From the low ceiling hung many delicate, rope-suspended pots filled with leafy green plants. There were a handful of employees scattered behind the counter and around the room serving and waiting on customers – something to be expected on an early Friday afternoon in summer. Near the back of the room was an ornate-design iron, spiral staircase. I admired the decorative steps as we made our way upstairs, watching my feet so I wouldn’t trip.

At the top of the stairs we both scanned around the upper floor, promptly finding Connie sat waving us over at a table by the window with… a _girl_? After seeing Connie flailing his arm at us, the girl turned around in her seat as we approached. She had her elbow resting on the circular table looking pretty enthusiastic to see us even though we had never seen her before, fingers threading through her dark auburn hair which was tied back in a messy high ponytail. We all simultaneously greeted each other and sat down, Connie reaching his arm over the table to fist bump me.

“Hey dude, long time no see! How’s that collar bone holding up?” He asked lightly.

“Uh, alright man, it’s been better obviously.” I chuckled and he gave a sort of sympathetic huff in return. Shuffling in his seat, he gestured towards the girl sat between us.

“Guys, this is Sasha!” He began, Sasha giving a tiny wave to Armin and me, a big grin spread on her face to pair with Connie’s. “Sasha, this is Armin and Jean.” He told her, referring to us individually. “This is where she works which is why we decided to meet you two here.”

“Yeah, it’s just not my shift right now.”  She added, taking a bite out of her half-eaten panini. “Nice to meet you both! Connie has told me about you and your hockey team. Jean, I hear you’re the team captain, huh? That’s gotta be cool but what the heck happened to you?” She questioned, looking quite worried. I felt kind of bad…

“Oh, this? Ah, it was just an accident from a game the other week, no biggie.” I may have watered down the story but I honestly didn’t feel like focusing on it. Connie, on the other hand, disagreed and wanted to make a big deal about it.

“No way! That wasn’t an accident at all, that assnugget checked you hard on purpose.” All of a sudden he’s all about justice I guess. I just wanted to swiftly put an end to the topic.

“Yeah, maybe, whatever… let’s just… talk about something else, okay? I mean, dude, you got a girlfriend!” I pointed out. Apparently I was mistaken because as soon as the g-word left my mouth, Connie and Sasha erupted in flustered corrections.

“No no no, we’re not…” Sasha spluttered, “That. Aha, besides, we only met like a month ago.”

“ _And_ you have a boyfriend.” Connie asserted to which Sasha nodded energetically. Armin and I looked at each other and he seemed to take pity on their embarrassment compelling him to hastily change the subject.

“Still… Connie, why didn’t you introduce us sooner?” He queried. Connie’s expression shifted, making him look less like a deer in headlights, thankfully. Sasha was fast to reply, telling us about how she had been rather busy since summer started, occasionally pausing to eat more of her toasted lunch before continuing to talk with her mouth full. It was a little bizarre but she seemed reasonably polite otherwise and Connie was very much captivated by her so I had no mind to judge.

For a while, we small talked to get to know Sasha better and for her to get a glimpse into our lives too. Whilst she and Connie were engaging in a mini conversation, Armin quietly asked me what I wanted to eat from downstairs. I had woken up fairly late that day and skipped breakfast so I was admittedly feeling pretty hungry but I hadn’t remembered to bring any money with me (why should I have? It’s not like I knew we were going to a café) and I didn’t want to make Armin spend too much for me. I told him the situation and he suggested I just pay him back later. I still felt bad that he was covering for me after what I did.

In the time that he had walked downstairs, ordered our food and drinks, and returned back to his seat, the rest of us had somehow managed to progress to the conversation to talking about how to survive if you fell down a waterfall. Armin joined in too right after he insisted that we were all wrong and frankly, we probably spent too much time on the subject because eventually, Sasha perked up and put an end to the heated (and sort of pointless) debate.

“Oh! Everyone, this here is my roommate!” I didn’t know what she was talking about but it looked like her eyes were focused on something behind me…? “And also co-worker, of course.” She divulged with a sweet giggle. I had to admit, she was kinda cute when she wasn’t being gross, and I couldn’t help but reciprocate the cheerful expression she was beaming. I turned around to see who she was referring to but the person I saw was a much, _much_ bigger surprise than I’m sure Connie had planned.

“Hey guys, here’re your smoothi—” Holding a tray with two red smoothies which both had cute blue-striped straws; he was interrupted when I turned and he caught my alarmed expression. Marco was looking me straight in the eyes and I felt my heart beat a little peculiarly in my chest. I spotted him shoot an similarly alarmed glance at Sasha. _“_ Uh, what’s going on here?” He questioned with an anxious laugh. _That’s what I wanna know._

“Marco, these are my new friends! Connie, who you’ve met, Armin and Jean.” I heard Sasha reply with delight, Armin murmuring a short “Hey.”.

“Hi, uh, M-Marco,” I stammered out, I really didn’t understand why I felt nervous. I guess this must’ve caught me off guard or something… “Connie and Armin are on my team at the rink. Um, Con, here, was introducing Sasha to us today.” _Ohhh boy, why am I explaining all of this?_

“I’m aware… Uh, Sash told me last night.” _Ugh, of course he already knew._ “I never expected it to be you though.” He raised an eyebrow and the corner of his lip quirked up. Something about him being relatively pleased to see me made my chest feel funny again.

“Uhh, do you two know each other already?” Connie’s voice swept away whatever it was I was feeling. Marco and I simultaneously looked at him then back at each other blankly and tried to form some kind of non-suspicious story of why we were already acquainted. We both stuttered several vowel sounds until Marco decided to take the wheel.

“Yeah, we um, met at the ice rink, in between your training and my practise session.” _Good. That’s plausible. And essentially what happened I suppose… Minus the excessive texting afterwards._ I cringed at my own thoughts. Connie’s face instantly lit up again so everything seemingly came across as normal.

“Well, you’re totally welcome to join us after your shift, man.” He suggested, with Sasha agreeing persistently. Marco checked his watch then pouted slightly and informed us that he still had to work for another two hours. We unanimously settled on waiting for him to finish at the café after which we would leave and hang out somewhere else. I was secretly thrilled by this unexpected turn of events.

While we were waiting, Connie and Sasha had effortlessly gotten themselves into another ludicrous dispute. I took this as an opportunity to finally let Armin know why I hadn’t responded to his call or text properly. I spoke quietly, since I didn’t want either of the other two knowing what I’d been doing, “Armin, listen,” I said softly, “that guy, Marco, he’s the reason you haven’t heard from me in two weeks.” His brows drew together and his eyes sort of darted around as if he was trying to make sense of what I just told him.

“Wha— _what_?” He hissed.

“Wait wait, shh. I met him on the Sunday evening after the game because of this bad thing that happened between Thomas and him and so I went to go see him there again on the Wednesday after to, y’know, like apologise or something for what happened so he ended up taking us to McDonald’s and we sat in his car talking about stuff and—”

“Jean, wait,” he interjected, “okay, I get that you met him already but what does this have to do with you ignoring _me_?” he posed.

“No, listen, I’m getting there, okay?” I assured him. “So basically, I managed to get his number and we’ve sorta been texting like… a lot.” Grimacing at how terrible that excuse sounded, I cautiously looked Armin in the eye. He still appeared to be baffled by my recount. “That’s not— I don’t mean I was ignoring you to talk to him _instead_ , I just mean—”

“You like him?” … _Huh?_ “No, I get it, you just wanted to get to know him better.” I immediately became flustered, my heart beating more rapidly at the implication of Armin’s words.

“What!? No! I don’t—” I could feel my eyebrows contort upwards.  _Fuck, does it come across that transparent?_

He grinned and sat back in his chair taking a sip of his smoothie, “I’m kidding, Jean.” His smile faltered. “But… I kinda wish you would’ve at least said something to me. I thought I’d done something wrong to make you hate me.” It made me feel even worse when his tone was upset rather than angry.

“No, of course I don’t hate you. Armin, I’m sorry. I realise I should’ve talked to you; I promise I won’t do something like this again. I didn’t mean to ignore you; I just got really caught up with talking to Marco and… I know there’s no excuse for that so I really am sorry. You’re still one of my best friends, y’know?” He looked at me again with a bit of a sad puppy face that hurt to look at.

“Yeah, I know… Thanks. I feel kind of weird being the only one who doesn’t know Marco though.” He sipped his smoothie again which prompted me to drink mine too. I felt for him, it was a little bit of an awkward position to be in but I tried to be positive about it.

“That doesn’t matter, we’re all gonna hang out so you two can talk about stuff.” I suggested.

“Yeah, you’re right. I won’t hog his attention too much though, I’m sure _you’ll_ want to talk to him more.” I wasn’t sure if that was Armin teasing me again or an indirect shaming for my behaviour but either way, I knew I deserved it. I slurped my smoothie and we both joined Connie and Sasha in their intense discussion again.

* * *

Being in the town centre, it was only a short walk from the café to the arcade. I walked mostly next to Armin as a sort of subtle apologetic gesture, with Connie, Sasha and Marco walking in front of us. Now you might be thinking: “Five adults hanging out at an arcade? That’s sad…” Well let me tell you, you’re _never_ too old to spend an embarrassing amount of money on trying to collect enough tickets to trade in for a sense of accomplishment and a crappy minion plushie.

There was no sign of daylight once we walked into the hot and noisy establishment. Flashing neon signs and machines were the only source of illumination but the sheer abundance of them made sure things were _well_ illuminated. Almost immediately, Connie spotted the air hockey tables and challenged me to a match. I wasn’t as competitive as he was but something about the idea of beating him with only a single arm available seemed very enticing.

“You’re on, Connie boy! Prepare to lose.”

“In your dreams! I’ll have you know I’m an air hockey champion and I have won countless games against the best of the best. I even won an award.” He bragged.

“Oh yeah? What award was that, ‘Worst Air Hockey Player in the World’?” I sneered.

“It was ‘Best Air Hockey Player, Way Better than Jean Kirschtein’ _actually_.”

“Okay children, settle down.” Armin stepped in, “Connie, you’re gonna have to win if you wanna prove it.” Connie scoffed and pulled out his wallet to stuff a couple of coins into the slot while I situated myself at one end of the table. Sasha, being a closer friend of Connie’s, stood on his side of the table as his supporter and began pumping him up with cheers of enthusiasm. Marco caught onto this and similarly followed suit and walked over to me, feigning a serious tone of encouragement.

“Come on, man. Come on! You got this.” He said playfully, rubbing his hands together in preparation for an intense round of coaching an air hockey game. I laughed at the front he was putting on and I was glad that he was supporting _me_. Connie placed the puck onto the table’s now-active surface and held onto his striker.

He took a deep breath and exhaled.

Before the end of his breath was out he suddenly knocked the puck forward and into my goal. The table made an obnoxious buzzing sound and displayed a bright red number one on the scoreboard.

“Dude! What the fuck!? That was a dirty shot.”

“Nah bro, you just suck because you’ve been missing so much hockey practise.”

“It’s been less than three weeks!” I argued. “… _And_ I have a fracture!” I added, furiously pointing at my sling. I realised Marco was laughing next to me, presumably at Connie and I’s disagreement, and it kinda stung a little. “Why are you laughing? You’re supposed to be backing me up here!” He stopped laughing but a large smirk still remained.

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll stop.” He said, biting his lip in restraint. His amusement would have annoyed me more if he didn’t look as cute as he did doing that. _He better count himself lucky…_

“To be fair, that was a _little_ bit of a foul if you ask me.” Said Armin, stood at the long-side of the table, posing as a referee.

Connie casually returned to his table position. “Fine. Kirschtein can have a free goal too,” He proposed, “ _if_ he can get past me.”  He assumed a ridiculous battle pose to which Sasha seemed to enjoy and also joined in, urging me to fight. I had faith in myself and I was pretty confident I could strike past him easily.

“Oho, _someone_ is confident they can defend against _me_ , King of Pucks” I paused, “and Pu—”

“Jean, do _not_.” Armin scolded. The others sniggered to themselves.

I apologised and with a determined look on my face, I nodded at Marco and he reciprocated.  I stared Connie in the eyes, gripped my striker, and faked a push to the right before knocking the puck in the other direction. It bounced against the side of the rink and slid directly into the opposite goal. Marco and I shared a victorious high five whilst Connie tried to convince us all that my success was just lucky and that I was in for a _whole_ lot of failure.

The game continued in the same manner, Connie attempting sneak attacks which I managed to send back to him repeatedly. “Stop cheating!” He yelled at me, clearly becoming frustrated at my increasing score.

“Hey, I’m not cheating. There’s a reason I’m our team captain.” I goaded. I noticed Armin sigh and shake his head. Maybe that did come across a little _too_ cocky; I hoped Marco didn’t think I was being serious.

A few rounds later, Connie’s title of ‘Best Air Hockey Player, Way Better than Jean Kirschtein’ was dismantled after my inevitable win. Sasha consoled him as he slumped into a defeated heap on the sticky arcade carpet.

“Very impressive, Jean.” I turned to see Marco slow clapping. “That was really quite something to witness, I knew you had it in you... _slugger._ ” He said, a little unsure. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that ‘slugger’ was more of a baseball term but I still appreciated his belief in me.

“Thanks, Marco.” I replied earnestly with a soft smile. I wasn’t sure if he realised that I was genuinely thankful of his support but I still wanted to let him know that it meant something to me, even if it was just a dumb game of air hockey. My eyes scanned back over to where Connie and Sasha were plopped on the floor to find that they had disappeared already until I caught sight of them over at a row of claw machines. They already looked very engaged in trying to grab a prize from one of the corrupt boxes of junk so Marco asked Armin and me if either of us wanted to try racing him. Admittedly, my initial thought was ‘ _God, yes I would love to; let’s have more friendly banter please’_ but I was more polite than that and I knew better to let Armin have a turn at playing something. It barely occurred to me that I didn’t have all the required limbs to participate anyway.

I followed Marco and Armin over to two bright consoles; each had a brightly coloured motorcycle decorated with blue LEDs. I did assume that by ‘racing’ Marco had meant a car driving game like the Mario Kart arcade machine or something but this proved to be better. Whilst Armin knelt down and inserted their coins, my chest stirred in the second I saw Marco swing his leg over the bike. Before my mind could wander though, Armin caught my attention by throwing his bag on the floor and asking me to watch it.

“Ah, yeah… Sure.” I said, my eyes unconsciously returning to how Marco’s shirt spread smoothly over his back, not realising that he was also placing his backpack down and asking me to watch it too. I quickly looked up at his face and tried my best to act like I wasn’t just doing that. “Y-Yeah! You guys go ahead.” I sputtered, lifting a hand to scratch the back of my neck which suddenly itched with heat.

Summer break usually entailed many kids whose parents didn’t care much for quality family time and _those_ kids would end up at this arcade so their parents could feel like free spirits again. I observed them and remembered the times that I experienced the same when I was younger. As a kid you think spending so many days playing video games and skee-ball is awesome… But the older you get and the more you understand, the harder it is to reminisce about those times. The memories became more unpleasant so I shifted my concentration back to Armin and Marco. Their race involved lots of giggles and yelps of excitement and I was relieved that they were able to bond at last. It made me think about the fact that I hadn’t really planned on introducing them to each other but in a way I was glad that Marco was coincidentally connected to all of us – it almost seemed like fate that today happened. While I was zoning out again, Connie sprung at me out of nowhere and made me flinch.

“Whatcha smiling at, Kirschtein?” He yelled – clearly the loud 80s mix that was blaring was starting to deafen him. My smile was replaced by a peeved scowl.

“Jesus, chill out... What the hell have you two been doing?” I questioned, motioning the bundle of stuffed toys he and Sasha were clutching. Briefly, I wondered if they’d managed to squirm into the claw machines and snatched them.

“We won all of these!” Sasha screeched energetically, somehow even louder than Connie. “And it only cost like 32 bucks!” I winced internally, hoping Sasha understood the value of money _or_ was wealthy enough for that to not make a scratch. By the time she had finished going through their haul and informing me what all of her new friends’ names were, Marco and Armin had finished their race and grouped up with us again. Marco remarked the toys and commended the two for accumulating so many prizes. _Damn, why aren’t I that nice?_ It took less than a minute for Connie and Sasha to run off again and fixate on another game whilst Marco, Armin and I walked around and chatted, occasionally stopping to play things that grasped our interest.

Nearly two hours had passed before we all gathered again, ready to leave. As we walked in the direction to the exit, Sasha piped up.

“Marco! Bet you 100 bucks you can’t beat me at DDR!” _She must be crazy…_

“Sasha, I’m not betting 100 dollars on DDR…” _Oh good, at least Marco is responsible._ “Loser does the dishes for a week?” _Am I hanging out with middle schoolers right now!?_

“Deal!” She squealed, dashing over to the machine. She hopped onto the platform and paid the toll before scrolling through the song list. Marco looked at me and chuckled, handing his bag over to me to look after. We all walked over to Sasha and stood around the machine while she was still looking through all of the songs until Marco stepped up. She bounced on her feet, squeaking eagerly before selecting the song they were about to dance to – The Reflex by Duran Duran; I read off the screen. I noticed it sounded very 80s which was amusingly fitting of this particular arcade.

When the track began, Connie showed his support. “Whoo! Go Sasha! Sorry Marco!” Marco laughed while keeping his eyes glued to the screen. They were both doing equally well, stomping on the corresponding arrows in good time to the music. Even Armin was getting into the competitive spirit, although he was cheering on both of them and I was too but… Inside, I knew who I was rooting for more. After the song ended, we watched intently for the results…

“Rematch! Rematch! Come on, I didn’t even try that hard that time, it doesn’t count!” Sasha reasoned but Marco was too busy revelling in his triumph. “Marco please please please!” She continued, pouting and holding her hands together up as if begging for mercy. Wearing a smug grin, Marco seemed to consider her pleas and decided to give her a second chance.

“Okay, _one_ more round, winner takes all.” He declared making sure we were all aware of the rules. “Let me pick the song this time though.”

Marco began skimming through the tracks and Sasha paid for this round too; she must have really been desperate to dump dish duty on him… He landed on a particular song and after listening to the preview for a few seconds, his smug grin returned and he hit the select button. La Senorita was displayed in large text, followed by the usual ‘READY’ and ‘HERE WE GO’. Sasha was trying extra hard this time and Marco was applying the same amount of effort as the first round except this time… he was actually _dancing_? The up-tempo beat was booming from the speakers and Marco was flourishing the ordinary gameplay steps with salsa-esque moves. Sasha was too focused on trying to win to see what was happening beside her and Connie and Armin were having fun watching the performance being given to us but I was _captivated_.

It’s already been established that I undeniably think Marco is a beautiful skater… but somehow this was different. Apart from the absence of ice I mean. It was the way he had total control over his whole body: the way that each pulsation of his chest had my eyes silently begging for more; the way that each jerk of his hips made my heart beat faster; the way that his expression was so goddamn _charming_. I had to avert my gaze to avoid looking suspicious and looking around I clocked a couple of other strangers who had stopped to watch the display too. It was no surprise for him to have an audience and if he were aware I doubted he would have been surprised either. Having hundreds of spectators was nothing new to him. He had an incredible understanding of how to please the eyes of those watching and it certainly worked.

A concluding ‘Olé!’ denoted the end of the song and the results revealed Marco as the final victor of the dishes wager. He teetered back over to us, panting and Sasha flung her arms around Connie, faux-wailing about her new chore schedule.

“Wow, Marco that was quite something there.” Armin commented, voicing what I was too speechless to say.

He laughed breathlessly. “Thanks, I’m really glad I don’t have to worry about touching any greasy plates for the next week.”

“He meant the dancing.” I blurted out. _Ah, yikes…_ Both of their eyes darted in my direction, neither of them responded. Armin had a perplexed expression but Marco was still cheery, albeit a little confused too. “I, uh, sorry. I meant… he was saying… your dancing was good. _I’m_ saying your dancing was good, you were good, you did good. I, um…” _What the fuck am I saying?_  I bit my lip to stop any more nonsense from tumbling out. “Sorry, here’s your bag.” I returned his backpack to him and stood a little further back, unable to meet his eyes after that disaster of a compliment.

“Thank you, Jean.” He said, leaning forward and tilting his head to try and catch my eyes again. I looked back at him and his contagious beaming spread a smile onto my face too.

* * *

Everyone slipped on their sunglasses when we stepped out of the arcade – what with it being June, the sun was still radiating in the sky in the late afternoon. The walk back to our where our cars were parked was more comfortable than the walk to the arcade now that we all had been able to socialise with each other better than we could in the café.

At the parking lot we said our goodbyes to Sasha and Connie first. Connie ordered me to come to hockey practise on Sunday to see everyone  and involve myself again so I promised him I would go, knowing I wouldn’t have much else to do anyway and that I shouldn’t really abandon my team for so long. Sasha’s goodbye consisted of her throwing her prizes into Marco’s car and asking him to chauffeur them home before giving us all a friendly hug, making sure to be careful of my left side. Marco, Armin and I waved them off, leaving just us to bid our farewells.

“Well, I know Sasha was meant to be the surprise of today but it was really nice meeting you too, Marco.” Armin said. I scratched idly at my leg through my pocket. I’d had fun but I felt reluctant for it to end so saying goodbye was making my heart feel heavy.

“Yeah, I had a good time with you guys, it’d be cool to meet up again some time.” He replied, glancing my way.

“Yeah, we’ll do that for sure.” Armin and I agreed, “We gotta get going now though, sorry, I have to drop off Jean still.” He explained, unlocking his car and beginning to walk over.

“Hey! Um, if you’ve got somewhere to be I don’t mind taking Jean home.” _What’s this now?_  Armin and I looked at each other as if to verify what we were both thinking. “Oh… I mean, if that’s okay with both of you too. It’s okay if you’d rather go with Armin.”

“I don’t mind.” I interjected. Not to be dramatic but _any_ excuse to have more time with Marco felt like a godsend at this point. “Uhh, I don’t mind if you don’t mind.” I said to Armin, really hoping he wouldn’t.

“No, that’s okay.” He confirmed with Marco. “Thank you for that. I guess I’ll see you on Sunday then, Jean?”

“Ah, yeah, yeah see you Sunday.” I parroted. We waved to Armin and proceeded to get into Marco’s car. The silence promptly reminded me that it was just the two of us, alone again. It made me considerably more nervous than the last time two weeks ago though I couldn’t recognise why. “Thank you for this, you really didn’t have to.” I told him, attempting to break my anxiousness.

“Don’t worry about it, I wanted to.” He reassured me, smiling. _He wanted to…_ “Hey, listen,” he looked down at his hands as he began shyly; his smile seeming like it didn’t want to leave, “if you’re not busy right now, I’d be down for hanging out a bit longer if you are?” I felt excitement starting to bubble in my stomach.

“Uh, no I’m not busy. That sounds good.” I answered, fighting a huge grin. In hindsight, I might have sounded a little disinterested but, truthfully, I was trying to keep my cool. “Is that the real reason you offered to take me home?” I teased. He shrugged cautiously.

“Yeah… but really, you don’t have to if you don’t want, I know it’s kind of sudden for me to ask and we’ve already been hanging out for a few hours and your shoulder must hurt and—” This was the first time I’d seen Marco flustered… It felt comforting knowing that he was as nervous about spending more time together as I was.

“Dude, I already said yes. I want to.” _God,_ _I want to…_ He smiled at me and chuckled inwardly. “Do you know where we could go though?” I asked him. “I don’t know how much longer places will be open and I don’t know about you but I’d rather not stay out in this heat.” I joked.

“I mean Sasha has a date with her boyfriend tonight, hence me having to babysit,” he gestured to the stuffed toys and I giggled, “so… we could go to my apartment if you want?” My heart fluttered at the notion. Weird heart…

“Yeah, I’m game! Love to see how you… get down.” _Why was I born with a mouth?_ Luckily, Marco just laughed off my odd behaviour before turning on his engine and beginning the drive back to his place. “Oh, shit, I still haven’t told my dad where I am.” I realised Armin had picked me up before he’d come back home and I didn’t let him know I was out. “Uh, sorry, hang on a second, I’ll just text him real quick.” I explained. I slipped my phone out of my shorts and looked at the screen. Oops… Three texts and one missed call from Dad.

**_Dad  
hey pal, where have u gone? u haven’t texted me, just want to check ur OK_ **

**_Dad  
u haven’t replied yet, is everything OK?_ **

**_Dad  
jean? do u need me to come get u?_ **

**_Dad  
Missed Call_ **

“Ah, yikes…”

“Is something wrong? Do you need to go home?” Marco questioned.

“No, no, I just… I should call him, I don’t want him to be worried.” I would have felt bad if he was worrying about me and I just sent him a text in response. “Is it okay if I call him now?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s fine.” He said, lowering the radio volume. I swiped the missed call notification on my screen and held my phone up to my ear. My dad picked up after the second ring.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Jean! Where are you? Are you okay? Is everything alright?” He asked apprehensively.

“Yeah, Dad, I’m fine. I’m just with a friend right now, I was with Armin and Connie and a couple others earlier.” I reassured him.

“Do you need me to pick you up? You’re not staying out all night are you?” For a second I was worried that he was going to be pissed at me for being out any longer than I already had been.

“No, Dad, I’m not, I’ll just be out a bit later but I’m getting a ride home, it’s alright.”

“Okay… Well, okay, just keep in touch, okay?”

“Yeah, I will do. Take care, Dad. I’ll be home soon.” I hung up and sighed in relief; I really didn’t want to have a scene with my dad on the phone in front of Marco, who was focused on driving but also kept peeping at me every now and then to check things were going smoothly.

“We good?” He asked, still quietly even though the call was over.

I nodded and smiled, “We good.”

* * *

Marco’s (and Sasha’s) apartment complex was more pleasant than I’d imagined, though in a way it did suit them. We took the elevator up to the third floor where they lived, Marco told me how he would normally take the stairs but he didn’t want to tire me out because of my injury and I let him know how much of a gentleman he was and _then_ he threated to lock me out of the apartment. The grey walls of the hallway weren’t so drab with the summer sun shining on them and everyone’s white doors were a sophisticated match. Marco jingled his keys as we approached apartment 304.

“And voilà!” Marco announced, swinging the door open. I was immediately impressed – and not just because of his showmanship.

“Damn, dude. I didn’t expect it to be so tidy, especially with Sasha’s behaviour and your… McDonald’s habits.” I recounted roguishly.

“Hey! We’re house proud, leave us alone.” He retorted with a smirk. “And for the record, I don’t do the McDonald’s thing anymore.” It was a proud statement. I played along briefly before moving just a _little_ too fast in a way that my body did not agree with.

“ _Fuck_ … Ah…” I scrunched my eyes and breathed through my teeth, almost clutching my shoulder but instead electing to clench my fist.

“Oh, shit, are you okay?” I looked at Marco and nodded, gritting my teeth together. I’d been handling this pain for over two weeks now but even with the painkillers it was still a bitch from time to time. “Do you want me to get you some ice?”

“Please, if that’s okay.” I said with a grimace. Marco quickly ran off to what I assumed was the kitchen and fetched an ice pack.

“Here.” he handed me the cool pad that he had wrapped in a colourful tea towel which was covered in a cute mushroom design. “Oh! Uh, hold on.” He said abruptly, then ensuing to step over to the couch and arrange the cushions into a formation that would support me better. “Sit down here.” He instructed, sitting himself on the opposite end of the couch and patting the space that he had so kindly cleared. I did as I was told and carefully lowered my butt before leaning back with a slight old-man groan. He was quiet for a few seconds then suddenly asked “Ah, did you want a drink or anything?”

I faked a gasp, “Marco! The sun is still up!” I shrilled in a silly voice. He just scowled and stared at me. “Kidding… Yeah, I’ll have water please.” He rolled his eyes, though I noticed the corner of his mouth drawn up slightly, stood up and walked back to the kitchen to get some drinks for us.

The quieter the room was, the more nervous I became. I was sat by myself in the apartment of someone I’d met precisely twice before this day that made me restless and elated at the same time. That didn’t mean I wasn’t fucking _ecstatic_ being here though, I really had been hoping to see Marco again but frankly I was too afraid to ask to see him in fear of coming across as kind of, well… Gay. I didn’t know if he swung that way or not but, I really didn’t know him well enough to ask.

To avoid delving into an embarrassing pit of thoughts, my eyes studied the room as I waited. It was well-decorated, nothing was very bare which contrasted the otherwise organised nature of the area. The Prussian blue sofa was the type that your whole body sank into, a comforting place of refuge after an exhausting day, embellished with pretty cushions – one of which was a reversible sequin cushion which was silver one way and, after I’d swiped the sequins up, said ‘Home Sweet Home’ in silver over a blue background that matched the couch. They had your typical living room set up: the sofa, coffee table, TV with a bunch of DVDs and boxsets, but my favourite _atypical_ feature was the multi-coloured fairy lights that were hung across every wall, lighting the room with a relaxing, pretty glow. My vision was locked, staring at the rainbow LEDs when Marco came back with two glasses of water.

“Here’s your water,” he chirped, going to place the glass on the coffee table before pausing, “I’m sorry, I just went into waiter mode for a second there.” We both chuckled a little at his blunder and he handed me my glass directly. I put the ice pack in my lap, thanked him and took a sip. We simultaneously placed our drinks on the table and he walked over to the TV stand.

“I like your decorating. Were the fairy lights your or Sasha’s idea?” I asked, genuinely curious. He laughed under his breath, back still turned to me. Once a song started humming gently through some speakers, he came back over to sit down and leaned his elbow onto the armrest, spreading his legs out a bit more than before. He looked very at home, it was a pleasant sight.

“Mine…” He admitted, looking at me with that stupidly sweet face. “But! To be fair, she really liked the idea when I asked her about getting them.” He muttered, slightly quieter. “I know it seems kinda silly to have them on during the day but I just think they look really cute… Although, I think you’ll like them in the dark, they look a lot nicer at night, I promise.” _I’ll get to see them at night?_

Too busy thinking about that last remark, I didn’t realise I was letting the music take over our conversation.

“Jean?”

“Huh? What? Sorry, I kind of zoned out there… Sorry, I don’t normally do that, I’m really an interesting person, believe me!” _Oh God, why._ As soon as it left my lips, I noticed how braggy my statement sounded and immediately recoiled into myself.

Marco only snickered at my outburst. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he repeated, “I believe you.” He smiled warmly at me and I could feel my heart swell. “I’ve seen how you act towards Connie and towards Armin and towards me and… I can see you’re interesting. Without you having to tell me.” Those words made my heart so bubbly and happy that I wanted to grab his hand and squeeze it really tight so he would know just how much it meant to me. He hesitated momentarily before adding “I can see why Armin likes you.”

_Wait, what? The fuck?_

“You… What?” I said perplexed, eyebrows knitting slightly.

“You’re…? You two are… You _are_ dating, right?” He persisted doubtfully.

“No! No, no. No we’re not, no.” I couldn’t correct him fast enough. “That’s… No, wh-what even made you think that? Do you-do you think I’m _gay_?” Even I could feel myself going overboard with the denial but I had to make sure he knew for sure that I was _not_ dating Armin.

“No! I-I don’t think that…” He stuttered, becoming visibly more tense and embarrassed. “Sorry, I just assumed because… he was driving you around and you two were sat together a-and you shared lunch and—” He curled forward and buried his face in his hands. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t have assumed that. Ugh, I’m so stupid, that was really dumb.” He continued to let out a garbled groan into his palms. Seeing him like this was kinda pitiful and I felt bad that he was so distressed by his mistake. I was never the best at handling feelings or bad situations so I did what I thought was best to do: a few soft pats on his back.

“Hey… It’s alright, don’t worry about it. I mean, okay granted, I’ve never really known any other straight guys who share meals… but we’re _not_ dating.” _Pretty sure neither of us are straight either but… that’s just a nuance._ “Don’t beat yourself up about this. I’m not offended or anything, it just surprised me a bit, no one has ever thought that before.” He groaned and apologised some more and I carried on reassuring him that I wasn’t upset by it. Since he brought up the subject though, I had a burning need to ask him a question.

Now, before this question is asked, I must preface that although I ‘really didn’t know him well enough to ask’, it seemed a little more appropriate after what had just happened.

“So… y’know how you’re a figure skater?” I quizzed him carefully. “Does that mean… Are you gay?” I examined his facial expression to see if I had crossed any social boundaries. I was afraid he would take it kind of badly like I did. Worst case scenario: he’d kick me out of his apartment and tell me to walk home. Instead, he just laughed. I stared at him curiously, laughing a little nervously too. “Sorry, was that… way too personal?”

“No, no, I don’t mind. It’s just funny,” his laughs began to trail off, “that’s the stereotype, right? That male figure skaters are gay because it’s such a _gay_ kind of sport.” He was still smiling, I was just trying to gauge whether or not this was going okay… “But it’s funny because I’m just adding to that ridiculous stereotype.” _Oh?_   “Technically, I’m not like fully gay, I mean how about those boobs and stuff, huh?” _Spoken like a mega gay._ “But I guess I’m just not _as_ into girls usually. Just a good ol’ bi guy.” That was kind of how I felt about myself too. Maybe it would be a good thing in common to bond over.

“Me too! I mean… I think. I don’t know. All I know is that I like girls but… like, _abs_ , dude.” That earned a snigger from my fellow, more versed bisexual. “Oh, and butts. Butts are like universal, everyone’s got ‘em, so that shit is for everyone. Can’t be gay _or_ straight if you’re lookin’ at a sweet ass.”

“Oh my God, that’s gold. Has anyone ever told you you’re a fantastic wordsmith?” He enthused. We both laughed cheerfully and I was glad it gave me an excuse to smile because the way he laughed made my skin shiver and my expression unable to calm down. I watched him for a while but soon his gaze moved from me to the direction of the floor. “I hope you don’t mind me asking but…” I held my breath, wordlessly wondering what question might begin with something so pensive, “if you _aren’t_ dating Armin, is there anyone you’re dating?” I raised my eyebrows at him and opened my mouth to answer; blinking around the syllables I was trying to form. I _didn’t_ mind him asking but I hoped that he didn’t think I was lame for being single.

“Uh, no, there isn’t…” I murmured, subsequently divulging, “I actually haven’t dated anyone since high school.” My last committed relationship was with a girl, from my school, who was… the average sort of girlfriend that a relatively popular guy would date. Customarily for the appearance to others and… the sex. It turned out she was mostly in it for the sex aspect and, although that was a pretty good benefit of the situation, she ended things between us during the summer I was preparing for university (and she was preparing for a gap year to ‘travel’) because she found someone else who enjoyed her ‘benefits’ more than I did. Honestly, I did want to date someone who I connected with more than just physically but apparently high school just wasn’t the time for that. As I was explaining all of this and more to Marco, I realised I was getting carried away talking about myself. “Shit, sorry… I didn’t mean to give you the full story of my adolescent dating experience.”

He reacted as if he had just realised as well. “Oh! No, it’s okay, it’s nice hearing more about you.” He said before quickly correcting himself. “I don’t mean it’s nice hearing bad stuff that happened to you, I just mean… it’s nice hearing about _you_.” His reiteration rendered me unable to respond. “God, sorry, I feel like I’m crossing all sorts of lines here.” He said, fidgeting. I didn’t know what he meant about lines but it didn’t bother me, his last words were still playing on my mind.

“I wanna hear about you too though, man,” I returned, “I mean, it’s not like we’ve really talked properly… Two weeks of texting memes and snapchatting doesn’t really count I’m afraid.” Although that was some time to be communicating for, I feel like I hadn’t been able to learn about the _real_ Marco yet and God knows I wanted to, especially the way we were communicating now. It didn’t occur to me until we met again earlier that day, how wonderfully unique he was in real life. He amusedly huffed and agreed with me.

“Okay, okay… If we’re talkin’ relationships, I really don’t know how much I have to offer you. I don’t know if you remember but I’m the type of person everyone assumes is gay. Usually those types of people don’t get too far on the dating scene at school.” He was speaking humorously but I only felt bad for him, understanding that he must have received abuse frequently. “But… _since_ then I guess I’ve been more lucky that I don’t have people bullying me all the time _plus_ being immediately recognised as gay has gotten me laid a decent amount of times. Not… by women though…”  His semi-fortune made me snigger but in the back of my head I couldn’t help but imagine what one of those times would have looked like. “Y’know, it’s funny what leaving school does to people though. I actually hooked up with someone who I went to school with who _didn’t_ come across as gay at all.” The concept was comical and I was a little fascinated to hear about Marco’s… escapades until he continued. “Oh wait! He actually did ice hockey too, at the rink back in Karanese, still does now I think.” I felt my expression turning into more of a frown as he spoke. “I don’t know how familiar you are with other teams…”

“The game the other week was against Karanese. We’ve played against each other a few times, I know of them.” I deadpanned.

“Oh, so you’ll probably know him right?” He queried eagerly.

“Jaëger…?” I snarled.

“Yes! Eren Jaëger, you do know him!” Marco exclaimed. I assumed he was just delighted that we had another thing in common, little did he realise that thing in common was my nemesis.

“You had sex with _him?_ ” I scoffed.

“Yeah… I mean, not really though, we just sorta made out for a bit and blew each other.” He clarified flatly. I felt somewhat relieved that they didn’t have actual sex but at the same time disgusted and mad at Jaëger for putting his stupid little dick anywhere near Marco. Before I got myself too worked up I remembered I had to feign a little bit of ignorance about this matter otherwise he might’ve become suspicious.

“Gross…” Is all I said about the matter, to which Marco giggled?

“Hey. Just because you’ve never sucked a dick doesn’t mean you can knock it.” That threw me off but thankfully I realised he wasn’t aware of my train of thought. “Ya gotta at least try it, who knows, maybe you can rename yourself ‘King of Cock’ instead.” He jested, taking a drink.

Without missing a beat, I replied, “Is that an offer?” grinning impishly. Apparently I had overstepped because Marco proceeded to choke on his water. “Shit! Shit, are you alright!?” I yelped, scooting over to pat his back for assistance. After a few moments of coughing violently, his, now red and watery, eyes looked at me as he breathed in and out deeply, regaining his breath.

“W-Wow,” he rasped, “that’s gotta be the worst chain of events that’s happened all week.”

“That bad, huh?” I commented. We chuckled whilst he leaned forward, his breathing gradually returning to normal, which is when I noticed the warm sensation of something moving underneath my hand. I noticed that it was his back. I noticed my hand was still… attached to his back and I was sat very close next to him. His playlist continued to play softly in the background, though I wasn’t paying much attention to that. Marco titled his head to look at me again, his wide-eyed gaze starting at my lap, level with his head and quickly rising to meet my eyes. My face flushed and my nerves, which had just returned, caused me to promptly pull my hand away. I didn’t know if he noticed me acting funny all of a sudden but he hastily changed the subject anyway.

“Uh,” he cleared his throat, “are you hungry?” He asked collectedly, sitting up straight again. He kept going without waiting for an answer. “I’m starving. Haven’t eaten since breakfast.” I couldn’t fit a word in edgeways before he sprung up and walked over to his phone. A wave of anxiety hit me and I wondered if I’d made him uncomfortable… “Gonna order a pizza, do you like pizza? Everyone likes pizza, right? I’ll just… be ordering that.” He jabbered and scurried off into a different room, leaving me alone again.

I stared at where he was stood for a while and then I decided to drink my remaining half a glass of water. After waiting about 2 minutes, I picked up my own phone and decided to reply to a couple of snapchats and scroll through Instagram. After waiting and scrolling for _10_ more minutes, I began to wonder if I was even still welcome or if he maybe just wanted me to leave… Since he had his phone with him to ‘call for pizza’, and I wasn’t hearing any pizza talk, I thought I would text him.

**_did u die…?_ **

The next thing I heard was a notification tone and something consequently thudding on the floor, followed by a “Shit!” _I knew there was no pizza._

Hesitantly, I stood up and slowly crept down the hall. “Marco?” The sound of fumbling came from one of the rooms for a few seconds before a door cracked open and his face emerged with an awkward smile. “Dude… I know you’re not ordering pizza right now.” I sighed. His face became a more honest expression and he stepped out of his room and closed the door behind him, biting his lip guiltily.

“Sorry. I panicked and overreacted and… I just needed to go calm myself down.” He scratched at his arm ashamedly.

“I don’t mind about that. Just… the pizza excuse was kinda lame, no offence.” I said, half-serious. His head hung and he sighed dejectedly. I immediately regretted saying that.

“It wasn’t a total excuse y’know. I actually _haven’t_ eaten since breakfast.” He told me.

“Wh— Well, what are you waiting for? Order your dumb pizza!” I playfully jabbed him in the arm and he smirked at me, pulling his phone out. I walked back to the sofa and sat down again, listening to the one-sided conversation in the hallway. The sky was steadily dimming, readying for sunset; I rested my head back and let it roll to the side so I could stare out of the window.

* * *

We carried on chatting as usual while we waited and I was relieved that Marco seemed more comfortable again, acting his usual radiant and… flawless self. When the buzzer went off, he excused himself to run down to the apartment block’s front door to collect the pizza and bring it back up.

I opened the door to him panting, informing me he had taken the stairs this time. He placed the pizza boxes down on the coffee table and knelt on the floor, lifting the lids up. The distinct smell of doughy crust, tomato sauce spread all over, covered in stretchy mozzarella was a welcome one. I hopped back over to the couch, sitting down and reaching for a slice – Marco had done the honours of seizing the first slice and gobbling half of it already. During his fifth slice, he told me about how he’s three quarters Italian and that his mom could make pizza a _gajabillion_ times better than this any day.

“That’s so cool, I hope I can try it one day.” I said keenly. On the subject of his mother, I asked about his family.

“Well, I have my mom and my dad, an older brother, and a sister. We’re twins but—” he was interrupted by my phone vibrating and ringing, it was an alarm reminding me to take my painkillers. I apologised and asked Marco for another glass of water. When he brought it, I hurriedly took my two tablets, scrunching my eyes as I swallowed each one.

“Sorry about that, carry on. You have a twin? That’s pretty cool, she’s the one who texted you when I was in your car last time, right? Are you two identical?” He snickered but I didn’t understand why. “What…?”

“Jean, you do know only twins of the same sex can be identical, don’t you? We’re fraternal twins.”  He chuckled, biting his pizza.

“Uhhhhh… Yes. I knew that.” I pretended. He went on to tell me what she was like – and also what she looked like after I pestered him for that information. “She sounds hot.” I was surprised when Marco looked at me, shocked, and looked so self-conscious holding his pizza he had to put it back down in the box. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling okay?” He continued to just stare at me as if to say ‘ _think about what you just said_ ’, so I back tracked the conversation in my head… only to realise he had _just_ told me that although they weren’t identical, she did look almost the same as him (except she had longer hair and boobs). “O-Oh, I meant like… She has boobs and stuff, yeah?” I lied, gathering that he had caught onto _exactly_ what I meant.

“Right… Yeah, those. Gross but… Yeah.” He seemed to play along and I thanked the merciful gods for letting that one slide.

* * *

The empty pizza boxes lay closed on the coffee table when we had finished and Marco had situated himself next to me on the couch again.

“Ugh, I’m stuffed...” He wailed, rubbing his stomach under his shirt.

“You did guzzle most of it so I’m not surprised.” He just slouched there, pouting at me with his eyes closed. I chuckled softly at him and turned my head to face forward, trying to relax after eating so much. He had gotten up at one point to play music from his phone again which was now faintly playing in the background. My eyes focused on the fairy lights again. The sun had finally retreated by the time we were done eating. “You were right…” I concurred.

“Huh?” He answered, not bothering to open his eyes.

“About the fairy lights, they _are_ at lot nicer at night.” This time he actually opened his eyes to see what I was talking about.

“Told you so.” He said, grinning and stretching his arms up before resting them behind his head. Now, not to sound gay or anything but… his stretch was lifting his shirt up a little, showing a sliver of his stomach and it was cute as _fuck._ I kinda wanted to poke it. I refrained though, knowing I’d probably pushed my luck too far several times this evening.

Before I could study the section of skin for long, we heard the apartment door being unlocked. Startled, we both sat up quickly and looked at each other. It only took a moment or two until Sasha slipped in with… Connie in tow!? They both look at us, surprised, as we did in return.

“Jean…? What are you doing here?” Asked Sasha, for herself and Connie it seemed.

“I... could ask the same of Connie, why’s he with you?” I felt like I shouldn’t have been challenging her back, she looked really downcast for some reason. My feeling was confirmed when tears began falling from her eyes and she started crying, turning to Connie for comforting hugs.

“I picked up Sasha,” he spoke for her, “she got to her date but found her _ex-_ boyfriend getting busy with some other girl.” The recounting of the night only made her sob harder. “She called me and asked me to take her home.” Marco and I looked at each other again sympathetically. He stood up and walked over to her, stroking her back soothingly.

“I’m so sorry, Sash. Here, go put your jammies on, okay? I’ll make you something to eat.” She nodded sadly, sniffling and wiping her eyes with her sleeve. As she walked to her room, Connie followed her, lingering for a second to speak quietly to me.

“You have _got_ to tell me what you’re doing here, later on.” That was weirdly intimidating of Connie but he seemed pretty pissed so I didn’t want to object to his demand. With that, he marched off after Sasha, and Marco and I heard the door close.

“What… just happened?” I wondered aloud.

“I don’t know… but I told her I would make her some food so I better go do that. Sorry, Jean, I might have to take you back home soon.” He said before moving to the kitchen.

Once again, I was left alone on this sofa, just as uneasy but for other reasons. I looked back at the blushing fairy lights and still thought they were pretty… but I couldn’t feel as content as earlier, now that Sasha’s muffled crying was humming along to Marco’s music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u SO much if u read all the way to the end there... i promise it was an accident, i didn't mean to write almost 11k words on purpose... i said to myself, "eh, it'll be fine if this chapter is maybe a little bit shorter than chapter 2" but apparently i got a little too excited and wrote a LOT more than that  
> but seriously, thank u so much for reading and supporting this never-ending journey hahaaaa  
> please do leave me comments, they make me so so happy, or talk to me on twitter!! that'd be fun, i love gushing about marco  
> i'll see how quickly i can get chapter 4 out, bear in mind i'm trying to be useful and get into uni this year soooo it might be a little bit of a wait again but not 2 years lmao
> 
> catCH u guys on the other side anywaY bye!!!! (love u <3)

**Author's Note:**

> helo, it me, bee  
> these are my notes and i am putting them here so i don't have to keep up the proper grammar lmao  
> FIRST OF ALL: thank you so so so much for reading this, like really, so sO MUCH thanku  
> story time: i started this fic like last year when i was actually figure skating but that soon had to be given up and i lost my motivation to do this for many reasons bUT  
> thanks to bell (@jeanmarco__/thugbishie/littlestpersimmon) and bel (@foxberryblue/foxberryblue), i found the motivation to continue with this!!  
> one of the reasons i gave up before was because people had ofc done this AU before (it's so perfect, how couldn't you??) and i was afraid that mine would just never live up to those (even tho i've never read them :^0), since i've literally never written anything before like this so i'm thoroughly surprised that i managed to write this much at all but i'm very glad and i have a lot more to come aha  
> also, thank u to ili for being another prime-motivator and yelling a lot about this AU with me, u are a star <3
> 
> all in all, please comment and tell me how you feel about this so far, it would mean the wORLD to me, please correct me on any mistakes i've made, if anyone is a legit hockey player or figure skater, please give me advice because it would be very helpful to know lmao


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